


Cold Comfort

by storytellerontheside



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Deceit has a heart, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sympathetic Dark Sides (Sanders Sides), Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, everyone is in pain, look I'm just going to be honest, spoilers for the new episode, why can't they all just get along, written platonically but read it however you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerontheside/pseuds/storytellerontheside
Summary: The new episode left devastation in its wake, and somehow it's fallen on Janus to try and pick up the pieces. He knew earning his place in the Light side would be difficult, but he certainly never suspected that he would be the most mentally stable of the bunch.Nevertheless, he'll be damned if he let's Thomas fall apart on his watch.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Deceit Sanders & Thomas Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders & Deceit Sanders
Comments: 238
Kudos: 749





	1. Logan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thein273](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thein273/gifts).



> I hope you're all strapped in for a boat load of Logan angst.

Victory wasn’t as sweet as Janus anticipated.

The initial rush of standing on equal footing with the other sides left him giddy. He always relished any opportunity to share his knowledge, but compared to the experience of being listened to? _Really_ listened to? Not disguised as Logan or Patton but exposed with his secrets laid bare. Well, that was positively euphoric.

He just wished that feeling could have lasted after Thomas turned off the camera.

The Light side of the Mindscape always looked idyllic from afar. So bright and airy and _alive_ , away from the rot and neglect and the things that lived in the Dark. A seat at the table came with its fair share of perks, but he soon learned that Thomas’ new tolerance didn’t equate to full-blown acceptance.

Roman’s glares were the easiest to shrug off. Lord knew he had his own issues to deal with, but harder to ignore was the haunting look in Patton’s eyes. He followed Roman around like a lost puppy when he left his room at all. Sometimes Janus would catch him staring as if surprised to find the Dark side present before his eyes would cloud over and a look of grief would replace the confusion.

Janus didn’t stay in the common room long on those days.

Logan, by contrast, didn’t so much as offer him a second glance the first time they ran into one another, only a brisk nod before he moved past him to put on a fresh pot of coffee and disappeared back into his room.

Virgil, the side Janus privately hoped to see more than any of them, hadn’t left his room at all.

It may have been years, but Janus still knew him better than that. Virgil didn’t hide when Thomas was in danger, and he certainly didn’t allow him to spiral so far down the rabbit hole that _Deceit_ had to pull them out again.

It felt strange stepping out into the open. Revealing himself instead of being unmasked, offering information instead of having it prised from his fingers.

Fight or flight and self-preservation used to work hand in hand, but now he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d chased Virgil from his newly built home. He’d chased _everyone_ away, and the common room wasn’t so bright without anyone to share its Light with.

Approaching Virgil would have been the sensible thing. Direct, appropriate, to the point.

Janus had never been one to follow the direct approach.

“What do you want, Deceit?” Logan asked, but he didn’t slam the door in Janus’ face which was already more than he’d hoped for.

“I can’t pay my favourite side a social visit?”

“Your attempts at flattery are as unnecessary as they are ineffectual.”

“And to think I went to the effort of bringing you a gift.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed when he spotted the jar of Crofter’s in Janus’ hands.

“If you expected me to concede to all of your demands just because I have a…fondness for a certain jelly brand, you are sorely mistaken.”

“No demands,” Janus corrected. “Merely a request.”

“A request?”

“I was looking for some advice..”

Logan stared, blank faced and expressionless. “You want…my input?”

“I suppose I could always ask someone else if you’re busy. I do know how _valuable_ your time is.”

Flattery shouldn’t count as lying, not really. Small exaggerations to aid in the smoothing of ruffled feathers, but the silky words seemed to do the trick. Something _other_ flashed behind Logan’s eyes, a bright spark of emotion that vanished too soon to identify.

“Alright,” he said after a pause. “You may come in, but don’t touch anything.”

Janus didn’t have much time to celebrate his private victory. Logan ushered him inside, peeking his head out into the hall as if ensuring they were truly alone before shutting the door firmly behind them.

Any thoughts of rehearsed flattery promptly vanished from Deceit’s head at the sight of the room.

“I’m sorry for the mess…and the lack of space.”

Janus’ eyes grew wide as he took in the bizarre sight. He couldn’t say he’d ever visited Logic’s room before, nor ever taken much interest in it, but he never imagined it would be so… _illogical._

The walls were plastered with maps that may well have once been evenly spaced, but now overlapped on the overcrowded walls. Picture frames on the walls hung askew, shelves lining the walls overcrammed with books that seemed to be arranged in no particular order. Even the large wooden desk beside the door took up most of the wall looked on the verge of bowing under the immense weight of the boxes and thick books stacked on top of it.

Stranger than any of that, however, were the filing cabinets. Row upon row of them, crammed in so tight he doubted Logan could even access most of them. They filled the empty space, restricting the sides to the sliver of empty floor by the door as if designed for a space much greater than the one they currently occupied.

“Has it always been like this?” Janus asked, for once not giving his words much forethought. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the room. A library, perhaps. A sanctuary to retreat from all the chaos and the arguments. Certainly not the storage closet of a room that greeted him.

“Not at all,” Logan replied. He squeezed past one of the heavy filing cabinets to reach the desk, though he barely had enough room to pull out his chair. “I would offer you a seat, but I’m afraid I had to do away with any extraneous accessories.”

Janus forced himself to regain his composure, adjusting his gloves to allow himself time to think.

“May I ask what flavour you brought?” Logan asked, saving him the trouble of forming a decent response.

“What?”

“The jam.”

“Oh…It’s apricot.”

Logan hummed in a way that could have indicated approval or dissatisfaction, Janus really couldn’t say.

“Forgive me for skipping any other standard formalities, it’s been some time since I had…guests. Would you mind getting to the point of your visit?”

The room had thrown Janus for a loop, but he was nothing if not adaptable.

“Very well…I wanted to talk to you about Virgil.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “In that case, perhaps you would have been better off paying Patton a visit after all. He _is_ Virgil’s self-declared best friend.”

Deceit winced. “Something tells me going to Patton may not be the best idea.”

“Please, elaborate.”

Staring Logan in the face, Janus began to wonder if he’d made the right decision in coming here. Manipulating someone who idealised the absence of emotion could prove challenging at the best of times. He’d hoped that, given his uncharacteristically _honest_ motivations, this may have been a good opportunity to get on Logan’s good side.

The unchanging blankness of his expression made it a great deal trickier than he’d anticipated.

“I can’t help but notice that things have been rather… _off_ since I arrived here,” he said carefully. “I was rather hoping you might be able to give me some advice to help remedy the situation.”

Before Logan could reply, the room began to rumble.

A flash of irritation crossed his face before his features once again settled into a deliberate neutrality. “Please excuse the disruption, it will pass in a moment.”

Despite his reassurances, Deceit continued to watch in alarm as the walls shook with enough force to send the pictures on the walls even further askew. With an uncomfortable grating that made him cringe, the walls began to shift.

They must have moved only a few centimetres in total, the whole incident over in a matter of seconds, but given the state of the room and Logan’s complete and utter lack of concern, he could only assume this was a semi-regular occurrence.

“What on _Earth_ was that?”

“It’s nothing you need concern yourself with,” Logan replied in a clipped tone. He stood to straighten the picture frame over his desk and stared mournfully at the ones across the room, barricaded in by a small army of filing cabinets.

“Your room is _shrinking_.”

“A masterful observation, Deceit.”

“It’s Janus.”

Logan paused. “I beg your pardon?”

“My name. I revealed it to the others after you…bowed out during our last debate.”

A spark of curiosity lit the logical side’s eyes, and for a fleeting moment, he looked just as Janus remembered him in their youth. So alive with curiosity, so eager to _learn_ and share.

Once upon a time, they’d been able to bond over their shared appreciation for books, if nothing else. Deceit never shared Logan’s interest in chemistry and astronomy, but their tastes overlapped in other fields. Psychology, for a start, but also sociology, philosophy, even law.

It had been a long time since they’d shared book recommendations, and Janus couldn’t even begin to wonder what had made him think of it now.

“Your _real_ name?”

“It was the only way I could think to get Thomas to trust me…I assumed you would have overheard.”

The shutters closed and the spark died, once again leaving Logan’s face an unreadable mask. “Yes, well, I had better things to do than listen to you rehash the same argument again. I find Patton’s preoccupation with proving that Thomas is a ‘good person’ tiresome and contrived.”

“We have something in common.”

To his surprise, the corners of Logan’s lips twitched to form a wry smile. “I think you’ll find we have rather a lot in common…Janus.”

For the first time, Janus realised how _tired_ Logan looked. Once he saw it, he wondered how he ever could have missed it before. The dishevelled quality of his hair, the dark bags obscured by thick framed glasses but still undeniably present under his eyes.

“Thank you,” Janus found himself saying.

“For what? It’s not as though I’ve offered you any insight into your little dilemma.”

“For using my name.”

Logan’s expression softened. Perhaps he may not be emotive, but Janus decided then that he was also not unkind.

“Logan, why is your room shrinking?”

This time, Janus thought he understood why his expression closed off again.

“I’ll have you know, I’m rather good at keeping secrets. Nothing you say ever has to leave this room.”

He looked sceptical, and Janus couldn’t find it in himself to blame him. Maybe he was more desperate than he let on, or perhaps he was simply beyond the point of caring. Either way, something tipped the odds in his favour when the logical side weighed the pros and cons.

“Things change,” Logan said flatly, as calm and disconnected as when he rattled off statistics from a library book. “ _Thomas_ has changed. He’s adapted to better fit his circumstances…as is healthy, I suppose.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Surely you of all sides must. You found yourself a…how does Roman put it? A ‘seat at the table’?”

Janus hated that the edge of resentment dug in like a barb beneath the skin.

“What of it?”

“It’s symptomatic of a change in configuration. I suppose I should have anticipated something like this happening eventually but…” he shook his head, though his tone and expression never wavered. “I held out hope he might still return to school. Make a career change, even. But I can see now that’s never going to happen. Not so long as he has the option of pursuing the path of Creativity. I’ve been rendered obsolete.”

Understanding dawned on Janus, though when it did, he rather wished he’d remained ignorant.

“ _You?_ ” he asked incredulously.

“I found it strange myself,” Logan admitted. “I’ve always prided myself on the value of my contributions. Logic is essential in any given situation…but I suppose Thomas doesn’t see it that way anymore.”

His tone may be flat, but the words were chosen with a little too much forethought. Handpicked, and void of underlying emotion.

Janus didn’t buy his careful apathy for a second, and he articulated as much using language that would have made Patton faint.

Logan smiled, and once again he allowed the other side to catch a glimpse of emotion flickering beneath the surface.

“I’m not one for sentimentality, but given the circumstances…would you forgive me just this once for making an exception?”

A simple request, but it made a switch flipped in Deceit’s mind. Hastily, he banished all thought of twisting Logan’s vulnerability to his advantage. “Of course.”

“I am glad that Thomas has made the decision to accept you.”

Of all the things Logic could have said, Janus certainly didn’t expect that.

“You…are?”

“Concepts of good and evil are arbitrary. Thomas needs someone to remind him to look after himself. God knows he doesn’t listen to _my_ advice on that subject. I’ve been trying to convince him to fix his disastrous sleep schedule for years.”

Despite himself, Janus laughed. Not cold or mocking, nor theatrical or villainous. It was an odd sort of laugh that built in his chest but sounded hollow to his ears.

“You should go.”

“Kicking me out so soon?” Janus retorted, more as a reflex than out of genuine protest.

“You don’t need my advice on this,” Logan said gently. “Something tells you you’ll manage just fine on your own.”

Any hint of laughter died in his throat.

“The other Light sides still don’t trust me.”

“You managed to win over Thomas, didn’t you?”

“That was different.”

“Something tells me you’ll find a way.”

Janus hovered by the doorway, unwilling to admit his own reluctance to leave that cramped and claustrophobic space that once embodied Thomas’ most valued traits.

“I’ll find a way to fix this,” he said, hand resting on the doorknob without turning it.

There were so many ways to spare someone’s feelings, but somehow this didn’t feel like a sweet fabrication to disguise a painful truth. It felt more like a promise, and that scared him more than he would ever admit.

“I’m sure you will,” Logan replied, and the acknowledgement passed between them unsaid. He doubted Logic trusted his words anymore than he did, but sometimes intent held its own value.

_But good intentions are meaningless if you still fail to achieve your goals,_ Deceit thought bitterly. _No matter what the damn philosophy books say._

“Janus? Before you go…”

He turned back, but Logan averted his gaze as if in embarrassment. “Yes?”

“I…I doubt very much you would ever allow yourself to feel guilty over something so trivial, but as the others are occasionally prone to bouts of sentimentality…I want you to know that you have my approval to stand in my spot. There’s really only so many places to stand in Thomas’ living room, and seeing as how you’re going to be appearing in videos more regularly from now on…”

This time, Janus didn’t have the heart to argue with him.

“We’ll share the space,” he proposed instead. He couldn’t help his streak of satisfaction when Logan looked up in surprise. “It’s only logical, after all.”

The corner of his lip turned upwards once again. “For the sake of consistency between videos.”

“Naturally.”

Janus wished there was something more to say. A few perfect, honey-sweet words to mend the wrongs.

He shouldn’t lie. Not with everything he’d done to try and earn their trust, but sometimes Deceit just couldn’t defy his nature.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Logan,” he said as he turned the doorknob. “You’ll see.”

“I’m sure it will, Janus,” Logan said, words laced with gratitude. “I’m sure it will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to write this since I watched the episode (curse you mounds of coursework!). I wrote and edited this all in a single sitting and it is currently nearing 2am, so I have no idea if any of this is readable, nevermind good.
> 
> All the same, if you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed. I've got a rough idea of what I'd like to cover with each side but...I guess let me know if you guys have any requests? I dunno what more to say, I've just got a lot of feels from that new episode.


	2. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit goes to Patton for help with Logan, only to realise Patton is dealing with his own issues.
> 
> This may be more complicated than he'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nowhere near as happy about this chapter but...eh, we'll see I guess. I have a good feeling about Virgil's.
> 
> Warnings: Vague descriptions of a disocciative episode from the perspective of an outsider.

Janus didn’t know where to begin.

It took him years of scheming and meticulously orchestrated drop-ins just to _reveal_ himself to Thomas. He’d been so careful, planning every encounter with the utmost care…but in the end, he found his sole success in an ad-libbed appearance.

They tore apart his carefully constructed arguments and dismissed his every proposal as he became the benchmark for bad intentions. _So long as our goals don’t align with that slippery snake’s, surely we must be doing_ something _right?_ But somehow Thomas found the good will to reach past the baggage and the courtroom scenarios to drag him out from the shadows.

The problem was, no matter how many times Janus replayed it in his head, he couldn’t figure out _why_. There had to be some golden line, a placed suggestion that allowed him to get a foothold in the Light. For once, manipulating the situation to gain an advantage had been the last thing on his mind, but there must have been _something_.

With Thomas editing, he found plenty of opportunities to review the footage, but no amount of overanalysing offered anything that could be applied to Logan.

Could it have been gratitude that he advocated for Thomas’ mental health and wellbeing? No, Logan had spent entire episodes defending his position on those matters. Perhaps it was simply that his grounded arguments finally struck home? Except arguments cemented in facts and philosophy were Logan’s strongest suit, and it didn’t seem to be doing him much good these days.

Deceit knew better than any side what it was like to be neglected. Undervalued and underused, packaged away to be called out when useful. Only Remus shared that struggle, though even he managed to slip through the cracks into his brother’s room.

It never made his room physically _shrink_.

With a growl of frustration, Janus closed the open tabs of raw video footage and started combing through their older videos again. If he could just figure out what was _causing_ this, perhaps he could aid Logan in re-establishing himself.

There had to be something. Some clue he’d missed. Or, perhaps, it was simply a difference of nature. Dark sides were made to skulk in dark corners, but Logic…Well…

While he couldn’t say for sure what order the sides emerged in, he knew Logic was older than almost any of them. Supporting Thomas from day one, carrying him through years of slaving away in a classroom when Deceit could only whisper suggestions in his ear.

Janus shook his head and looked down at his short list of ideas.

_Save the day – (return to playing the villain?)_

_Bonding session with the other sides._

_Take a more involved role in Thomas’ creative process._

_~~Blackmail.~~ _

_Talk honestly about the situation with the other sides._

_~~Duck out entirely to re-establish his worth.~~ _

_~~Joke more.~~ _

_~~Joke less.~~ _

Every way he looked at it, Logan already had all the right ingredients. He wasn’t being rejected outright or repressed. Compared to Janus and Virgil, he was positively unproblematic. He offered assistance and advice that Thomas and the other sides were all to happy to accept…but when it came down to it, they paved the way for Deceit to impersonate him, and didn’t spare him a second thought when he shut himself away.

It was messy and complicated, and alone Janus didn’t have a hope in hell of making sense of the Light side’s ever evolving dynamics. He needed someone who knew each of them intimately. Someone who would be able to recognise changes in Logan’s behaviour, and reflect on his changing relationships with Thomas and the other sides.

Fortunately for Janus, he knew just the side to ask.

“I thought we agreed t-“ Patton stopped dead in his tracks when he swung open his door, decorated with childish sketches and colourful scrawls from Thomas’ childhood. Janus supposed he must be feeling particularly nostalgic today.

“D- Janus. What an unexpected surprise!”

“Patton,” he greeted. “I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced. I was hoping we could have a chat.”

“Oh?” Patton asked, and Janus tried not to take offense at his nervousness. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” The lie slipped out before he could bite it back, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it when some of the tension drained from Patton’s shoulders. “Look I…realise we’re not exactly close. My presence tends to raise uncomfortable questions, but I promise to table the debates over the philosophy of ethics this time. I really am just looking to…talk.”

At once something changed in Patton’s expression, his eyes glazing over to stare at something down the hall. When Janus checked over his shoulder just to be sure they were alone, they snapped back into focus and his face lit up in an easy grin.

“You don’t have to try and justify yourself to little ol’ me. Of course we can hang out! Are you comfortable with being in my room? Virgil insists it doesn’t hurt him, but I know he doesn’t like it very much.”

“Fortunately, I’m not Virgil. I’m sure I can handle its effects.”

He didn’t mention that it was certainly preferable to them meeting in _his_ room.

“By all means, then. Make yourself at home!”

Janus resisted the urge to sigh in relief when he found the room every bit as sunny and stifling as he’d envisioned. “Thank you, Patton. That’s very kind of you…Are you feeling alright?”

Patton’s eyes snapped back into focus again and he gave him a double thumbs up, grinning all the while. “Why of _course_ I am, silly. Here, why don’t you take the couch and I’ll pull up an armchair? Would you like some iced tea?”

It seemed impolite to refuse, so he waited in the recreation of Thomas’ living room while Patton disappeared into the kitchen to put together some refreshments.

Of all the rooms in the Mindscape, Janus always assumed Patton’s would be the least interesting. He’d glimpsed Roman’s through the mirrors in Remus’ room, though the side tried to keep them covered. With the Imagination so close by, their rooms offered an element of unpredictability that even Deceit could appreciate. Virgil’s housed a few too many cobwebs for his tastes, but he could still appreciate the dramatic style. Logan’s room…Well, before seeing it in its current state, he would have liked to visit just to raid his bookshelves.

Patton’s room, on the other hand, only seemed to house half-forgotten memories and tokens from their past. Janus preferred looking to the future to dwelling on their shared history, but now he was there to see it…

He reached out and brushed a framed case of award ribbons, trying not to smile at the pang of nostalgia rising in his chest.

“Ah,” Patton said as he set the pitcher and plate down on the coffee table. “Thomas’ ribbons from the debate team.”

“I’m surprised you chose to hang them in such a prominent place.”

“I didn’t. Things around here tend to just sort of…crop up, y’know? My room has this way of pushing things to the forefront when you’re looking to reflect.

“Oh,” Janus replied, suddenly aware that the assortment of old notebooks on the shelf beside him were gone, an assortment of trophies sitting in their place. Thomas’ YouTube play button took centre place. “ _Oh._ ”

“You get used to it after a while,” Patton said with a dismissive wave. “Besides, I always seem to find new things I thought I’d lost when I have company round. You know Logan found Thomas’ old spelling book from elementary school the other day? It had all these little doodles on the inside of the cover where…Oh, now shoot, where did I put it—?“

Janus cleared his throat, trying to regain Patton’s attention, but the side was already elbow deep in a musty looking cardboard box that would be more at home in the back of an unkept attic. “You know, speaking of Logan.”

“Mmhm?”

“Have you…spoken to him at all recently?”

“Sure I have. I saw him just the other day,” he replied without taking his head out of the box.

“When _specifically_ , Patton?”

“Hmm? Oh it must have been…Thursday, I think? What day is it today?”

“Thursday.”

He paused, expression tightening. “No…no that can’t be right…”

“Patton?” Janus asked cautiously. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

At first, he didn’t seem to hear the question. He frowned at the box of memorabilia with an intensity that didn’t fit his usual cheery demeanour. Then, without warning, the silence broke and he dissolved into a fit of childish giggles.

“Deceit!” he said, holding up an old Gameboy. “Look—looklooklooklook! You remember this, right? Boy, I wonder how many _hours_ Thomas spent on this thing.”

“ _Patton_ ,” he repeated more firmly, and the side looked up in confusion.

“What’s wrong, Deceit?”

“Janus,” he corrected. “My name is Janus. You…you do remember that, don’t you?”

Patton’s jaw went slack, and he stared back in clear confusion. Then, mechanical as a puppet on a string, he straightened up and smiled.

“Of course I do. I may be old enough to be your father, but I’ve still got _some_ of my marbles left.” Then, to demonstrate his point, he withdrew a hand from the junk box and held up a handful of shiny marbles from their childhood. Deceit remembered trying to convince Thomas to steal them from his brother, once upon a time.

“See?” he asked, and in a fit of giggles he allowed several to slip through his fingers and spill across the floor.

“Patton, I’m worried about Logan,” Janus said, and the grin slipped off his face.

“W-What?”

“When was the last time you saw him, Patton?” he asked again more gently.

“I…”

“Since the last episode?”

“I don’t…”

“ _Focus_ , Patton.”

“I don’t _know_.” The change from childish jokes and laughter to broken resignation almost gave Janus whiplash. “I’m sorry, I just…Just…”

“Patton?” Janus asked cautiously, but the side gave no indication he’d even heard him. “Patton, can you hear me?”

Deceit didn’t know Patton that well, not really, but he recognised the disconnect in his vacant gaze. The way everything, even his breathing, seemed to grind to a halt as he stared at Janus with glazed eyes, like he’d never seen the side before.

“Come on,” Janus murmured, gripping his arm and hauling him to his feet. Patton jumped at the touch but offered no objection when Deceit dragged him over to the couch. “Keep your feet on the floor. Hold on.”

He stared at the pitcher of iced tea and let out a sigh, already mourning his glove as he fished out a few of the half-melted ice cubes.

Patton jerked in surprise when the ice met his skin. A positive sign, at least.

“Hold onto it,” Janus instructed, gently closing Patton’s fist around it. “Focus on how it feels.”

“’S cold,” he replied, but the uncertainty in his voice still worried Janus.

“You don’t have to put it into words if you don’t want to, just concentrate on the sensation. The cold as it melts against your skin. How it changes from a solid to a liquid. How it _feels_.”

Patton still looked lost in his surroundings, but he squeezed his hand into a tight fist. Janus could only hope the trick worked on him the same way it once worked for Virgil.

“Do you like music, Patton?” he asked, running back through the grounding exercises that used to help Virgil when the anxious side fell into dissociative episodes.

“I…I guess so…”

“Why don’t you try singing something?”

Patton’s face screwed up. “Roman’s the singer.”

“Not true. Even if he’s the best, that doesn’t mean you _can’t_. We all share Thomas’ voice.”

“Oh…”

Patton’s gaze wandered to fixate on an empty patch of wall, and it took all of Janus’ self-restraint not to curse.

“You could even just speak the lyrics if you like. It’s only the two of us here.”

“Two of us,” Patton mimicked without processing its meaning.

“Yes. You, Patton, and me, Janus. We’re in your room right now. Thomas is still in his living room, no doubt watching reruns when he should be editing.”

“Logan will be mad,” he mumbled, and Janus let out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I think Thomas has earned a break, don’t you?”

Patton hummed, his gaze flicking back again. He squinted, seeming to struggle with which eye to focus on. Instead of breaking off the hum, he allowed it to drag on until it formed around a tune.

His brow furrowed as he mouthed out a few of the lyrics, backtracking to find the start.

“ _Just…enjoy your com-pan-y,_ ” he sang under his breath, staring passively at the water trickling down his forearm.

They must have looked bizarre from the outside, but in that moment, Janus couldn’t bring himself to care.

Patton sang under his breath in circular patterns, singing the verses out of order and never seeming to reach an end, but little by little the life began to return to his eyes.

“ _Hate to saaaaay goodbye…Hate to seeee the end…_ ”

When the rest of the ice melted, Janus poured them both a glass of the sweet tea and placed it in Patton’s hand.

“Small sips,” he instructed, and Patton bobbed his head.

“ _Cause it’s been so long since I…made a friend like yoooou_.”

Janus’ breath caught in his throat. He hesitated before resting a hand on Patton’s shoulder. This time, the fatherly side didn’t flinch.

“Drink,” he encouraged, taking a sip from his own glass to demonstrate. It tasted of sweltering hot summer days spent indoors and the stab of nostalgia in of itself was sickly sweet enough to make him gag, but he forced himself to swallow it.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, and Patton offered him a watery smile.

“I really screwed everything up, huh Jan?”

Janus paused, turning the words over in his head.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, and it didn’t _feel_ like a lie.

“But everything’s falling apart…”

“That doesn’t mean you’re all to blame. Besides, we’ve made it through worse.”

Neither one commented when the first tears escaped Patton’s eye, though Janus left to retrieve the kitchen roll on the counter when they began to spill down his cheeks.

“Roman won’t meet my eye anymore,” he choked out. “Virgil won’t come out of his room and he won’t tell me _why_ —“

“He has no reason to be mad at you, Patton.”

“But-“

“Let _me_ handle Virgil. Roman and Logan, too. You listened to me about the importance of self-care when it was Thomas’ wellbeing at stake, but you failed to take your own advice. You can’t carry everyone else’s problems on your own back and blame yourself for failing to take the weight.”

“I just…I don’t understand how I ever let it get so bad. How did I _miss_ —“

“You need _rest_ , Patton. You’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out.”

“But—”

“ _Rest_. Let me take care of everyone else for a while. We’ll all still be here when you wake up.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Janus asked with a teasing smile, but Patton made a grab for his arm, eyes wide and panicked, but more alert than they’d been since he answered the door.

“I’m sorryaboutthecallback,” he said in a rush. Janus blinked, trying to catch up with the sudden change of pace.

“Would you mind repeating that slower?”

“I— I’m sorry for calling you a villain. And for dismissing everything you said just because you were… _You_. I knew that Roman didn’t want to go to the wedding, and even Logan said that—”

“You were doing your _job_ , Patton,” Janus replied, and for a moment he thought Patton might start crying again. “You stated your case and won, no one can fault you for that. Thomas wasn’t hurt in the long run, that’s all that matters.”

“But Roman-“

“Roman’s issue isn’t with the wedding. He’s being forced to confront something he’s been running from for too long now.”

Patton’s grip on his arm relaxed. “You mean…Remus.”

It wasn’t a question.

“There are sides to all of us we’d rather not know about,” Deceit said with a knowing smile. “But Logan was right about one thing, repression isn’t the answer.”

“He still doesn’t like you,” Patton admitted.

“I’m well aware, but that’s another issue that would be better dealt with out in the open.”

Privately, Janus just hoped he’d leave the sword at home for that particular debate, but that was another issue for another time.

“Hey, Janus?” Patton asked, eyelids growing heavy behind his thick-framed glasses.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Patton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh...really wasn't planning on posting this so soon but I guess the episode is sticking with me more than I anticipated? Honestly, I was having doubts about uploading this chapter at all, but I guess if you're reading this you made it to the end. 
> 
> It was harder than I anticipated writing Janus' perspective on Patton's dissociative episode since I've only ever experienced them first hand, but the grounding techniques used have worked pretty well with me in the past.
> 
> The song Patton was singing is "So Long" by Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward AKA the last song on Patton's playlist.


	3. Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough is enough. Deceit can't avoid him forever...he just hopes Virgil will let him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...surprise?
> 
> I'm curious to see what you all think of this chapter as I've been looking forward to writing it since I started this fic. As much as I want to believe Virgil was playing JustDance with Remus when all this went down...Well...

After an hour of knocking on Virgil’s door with nothing to show for it, Janus was almost ready to give up and try his luck with Roman. Only the thought of his katana drove him to persist. He represented self-preservation for a reason, after all.

He tried knocking politely first, though predictably Virgil failed to acknowledge that. The persistent rapping soon escalated to Janus banging his fist on the door in the hopes of irritating him until he lashed out. It used to work for Remus in the old days, but since then Virgil had invested in a pair of noise cancelling headphones.

He tried imagining how each of the individual sides would knock on the door and tried each of them out with breaks in-between, half-hoping Patton’s fears were correct and he _was_ just avoiding the one side.

When that didn’t work either, he started knocking to the tune of songs he thought Virgil might recognise just to keep himself amused. Some of them were probably difficult to distinguish given they were tapped out on wood, but at least it helped to pass the time.

By the time he finally got a response, he’d exhausted his knowledge of MCR and Panic! and utterly failed at knocking out the rhythm to the Evanescence songs he remembered Virgil blaring in his room. He was debating the pros and cons of moving onto some of the edgier songs in Disney’s catalogue when someone forcefully shoved a sheet of paper through the crack under the door.

He snorted at the sight of Virgil’s spidery scrawl of _Go Away_. Perhaps dear Anxiety was listening after all.

Janus summoned a fountain pen from his room and neatly wrote out the words _Fat Chance_ on the other side of the paper in flowing calligraphy. He heard movement on the other side of the door when he folded the sheet and slipped it back inside, his first indication of life inside the room since he began this exercise in futility.

Silence followed the rustling of paper before Virgil gave a barely audible, “ _Deceit?_ ”

His voice sounded warped and distorted through the door, but Janus’ heart leapt all the same. “I definitely _didn’t_ come here all by myself. We’re throwing a party out here without you, Virgil.”

Another pause followed before the door cracked open. Through the narrow sliver, Janus saw only darkness.

“ ** _What do you want?_** ” Virgil asked, and only then did he fully understand his stubborn vow of silence.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked at once.

“ _Fine,_ ” he replied, but the echoing distortions in his voice made it clear he was anything but. Deceit struggled to remember the last time he’d heard Virgil’s _Tempest Tongue_ take such a deep root in his voice, mangling it almost beyond recognition.

“May I come in?”

“ _… **Why?**_ ”

It wasn’t the question itself that bothered him, so much as the intonation behind it. A healthy dose of suspicion never did anyone any harm, but the familiarity of it brought back a pain of nostalgia that he forcefully shoved aside. Perhaps his time in Morality’s room had affected him more than he’d appreciated.

He wanted to tell him he should open up because they cared about him. Because _Janus_ cared about him. Because they worried when he shut himself away, and no one had seen or heard from him in months despite the chaos reigning down on the Light sides and they _needed_ to know he was okay.

Instead, he chose the justification he knew Virgil would respond to.

“Because Patton sent me.”

A shadowed silhouette passed in front of the sliver of a gap in the door. “ ** _Patton_** _asked you?_ ”

“He’s not doing well, Virgil.”

“ ** _Don’t lie to me_** ,” the anxious side snarled, and even with the door between them Janus had to refrain from taking a step back. “ ** _Not about that._** ”

“I’m not lying. Not this time. He got into an argument with Roman, and now he’s convinced you’re mad at him too. You can’t just hide yourself away without consequence anymore, Virgil.”

The side took in a deep, shuddering breath. Even hidden out of sight, Janus knew the look that no doubt crossed his face. He knew the way he froze up when hit with that initial uncertainty, and all his old techniques for keeping his mind on track when the panic threatened to send him into a spiral.

Janus could have counted down the beats aloud if he pleased. He knew how long Virgil liked to leave himself with a problem when he didn’t trust himself to be objective. The only question was whether he would allow Janus inside, or slam the door in his face.

When it came to Patton, it really wasn’t a question.

The door creaked open, but the light from the hall failed to illuminate the pitch black room. Though it went against his every instinct to walk into the looming darkness, he didn’t dare wait for Virgil to change his mind.

He never caught so much as a glimpse of the anxious side, but he must have been nearby as the door slammed shut behind him. A Light side may have been helpless in the darkness, but Deceit was well accustomed to living in shadow.

“Virgil,” he greeted, his voice regaining some of its silkiness. “I’d say it’s a pleasure seeing you again, but I think I’d need to actually _see_ you before I could make a statement like that honestly.”

“ _And since when do you care about honesty?_ ”

Janus paused. “…A lot has happened since you decided to hide yourself away up here.”

“ _Spare me the theatrics,_ ” Virgil scoffed. “ _Just tell me what’s wrong with Patton. Why is he fighting with Roman?_ ”

“There’s no straightforward answer to that. They had a…what does Thomas call them? A versus episode?”

“ _So they had a debate? What’s so bad about that? The Light sides argue all the time._ ”

“Well, to explain all that I need—”

“ _The spark notes edition, please_ ,” Virgil said impatiently. “ _I don’t want you here any longer than you need to be._ ”

Had it been anyone else, Janus might have taken offence, but he couldn’t help the fond smile that crept over the human half of his face.

“Very well. Roman largely struggled with his identity crisis after being forced to concede that the world cannot be categorised only by what is good and what is evil and left the episode convinced that he is responsible for Thomas becoming ethically compromised. Meanwhile, Patton backed himself into a corner trying find a balance between encouraging Thomas to be a good person and overwhelming him with guilt if he doesn’t _always_ do the ‘good thing’. This ultimately culminated in him transforming into a giant frog and forcing Thomas to decide whether he valued his own life over two of his oldest friends’. He also threatened the life of award-winning Broadway star Leslie Odom JR, but that part is relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things.”

In the silence Janus heard the rustle of clothing as Virgil shifted his weight. He was somewhere to the right, then. Perhaps he’d moved back to his favoured spot on the staircase. Regardless, Janus didn’t dare step away from the door.

“ _I’m sorry, **what?**_ ”

“Was that a little too condensed? I do apologise, it’s not like I was trying to summarise the events of an hour long episode or anything.”

The impenetrable darkness didn’t take the edge off Virgil’s glare.

“ _Why are you here?_ ”

“I already told you, Patton—”

“ _But why are **you**_ _here? Logan’s always the one to mediate. How do_ you _fit into all of this?_ ”

“I impersonated him again,” Janus admitted, and for the first time, he wondered if he’d been wrong to do so. “They didn’t want to listen to what he had to say. When they forced him out of the episode, I took advantage of the opportunity to step in.”

He expected anger, or maybe even panic at hearing Deceit once again got the drop on Thomas without him there to foil his plans, but he received only silence in response.

“Virgil, I visited Logan in his room and he’s…Well, let’s just say Roman and Patton aren’t the only ones struggling. I know we have a long history, and not all of it good, but you have to believe I’m telling the truth this time. Thomas can’t _function_ without the Light sides, and the plane is going down. I’m trying to piece things back together as best I can, but I don’t know the others like you do.”

“ _…Why should I trust anything you say?_ ”

Already Janus felt like tearing out his hair by the fistful. That question, it was always _that_ question, but only when he meant every word he said. They bought his lies without question and they accepted his false flattery, but whenever it really, _really_ mattered— “Because I gave them my _name!_ ”

He wished more than anything he could have seen Virgil’s face then, to know for sure he understood.

“ _You…You **told** them?_”

“Roman said I sound like a middle school librarian.”

That earned him a snort, at least, but Virgil quietened as the implications dawned on him.

“ _Did…did Patton…?_ ”

“Actually, he wound up taking my side for a change. Logan too.”

“ _I miss one episode and you’ve already got two thirds of the Light sides wrapped around your finger. Have you got Thomas robbing banks, yet?_ ” he asked, and through the grating distortions Janus heard the teasing edge to his voice.

“Not robbing banks,” he replied with a smile he knew Virgil wouldn’t see. “Just taking some time for himself.”

Encouraged by the lack of yelling, Janus took a risk. “Come back to see Patton with me.”

“ _I can’t._ ”

“To the common rooms, then. You can’t stay cooped up in your room forever.”

“ _Watch me._ ”

“Virgil—”

“ _I **can’t**.”_

Janus risked taking a step in Virgil’s direction, only to freeze at the crunch of glass under his feet.

“Virgil?” he asked. “Can I turn on the light?”

The anxious side offered no reply, not even a sound of acknowledgement, but Janus took the lack of protest as approval and reached for the wall where he knew the light switch should be. It didn’t take much searching to find it, but the light didn’t so much as flicker in response.

“Virgil?” he tried again, but still he received no response. Bracing himself as best he could, Janus strode across the room to where he knew the blinds should be. Despite taking what he knew should be an unobstructed path, he bashed his shin off of what he could only assume was the coffee table and stepped on several more shards of broken glass. He tried to brace himself for whatever state the room might be in when he threw open the curtains, but his heart still leapt to lodge in his throat at the sight of the devastation.

“Oh, _Virgil_ ,” he whispered. Even in the dim light filtered through the shades, there was no mistaking it. The room was _trashed_.

Deceit remembered Virgil’s rare fits of destructive rage well from his time in the Dark side. He could count the incidences on one hand, but they were a terrifying reminder that Anxiety, or then Paranoia, could be a force to be reckoned with when pushed too far. The stress and exertion weighed on him until it stretched him taunt as a rubber band and, sooner or later, he snapped.

Even so, Janus couldn’t remember it ever being as bad as this.

Everything that could be broken _had_ been broken, starting with the picture frames and trinkets on every surface and ending with the furniture. Pieces of the broken coffee table were scattered across the floor, the couch cut to ribbons and the cushions turned inside. Beside it, the mangled remains of the television rested on the floor while the stand appeared to have been repeatedly hurled at the wall.

It became clear why the light switch hadn’t worked when his gaze fell on the fixture dangling from a few exposed wires. He couldn’t tell if the lightbulb had been removed, or smashed so thoroughly that no glass remained, but he spotted the dented shade on the floor of the kitchen. Right next to the fridge which now lay on its side. The shredded remains of photographs lay amongst the shattered frames and posters which had been ripped straight from the walls.

It took Janus a moment to spot Virgil in the chaos, huddled into a ball in his favoured spot on the landing. The bannister cast shadows over him, sheltering him from the light of the window, but still he buried his face in his arms as he hugged his knees tight to his chest.

“How long has it been like this?” he asked, but Virgil only shook his head, barely visible beneath his hood.

How many episodes had led to so much destruction? How many times had he neglected to ask for help, locking his door and barring the other sides from his room?

For the first time, Janus felt anger. Not towards Virgil, but rather at himself.

“How did I not _realise?_ ” he asked himself aloud, taking a step in Virgil’s direction only to once again pause when he was reminded of the broken glass beneath his shoes. Among the shards, he saw fragments of mirrors. Too many for them all to have come from the living room. The bathroom mirror, perhaps?

“ _S’not your fault_ ,” Virgil mumbled into the crook of his elbow.

He approached the stairs with caution. Self-preservation could be as all-consuming as anxiety at times, even if he doubted Virgil would lash out at him in his present state.

“What happened? Was it something that happened to Thomas? One of the other sides?”

Virgil said nothing. Janus couldn’t even get a read on his expression with only a tangle of hair visible beneath his hood.

“I can’t help with what I don’t understand, Virgil.”

“ _I didn’t **ask** you to help._”

“You never do. Not when you really need it.”

Virgil shuddered and Janus tensed, prepared for him to launch himself forward. For him to scream and scratch, lashing out with teeth or with his Tempest Tongue, as Virgil knew all too well how to wield his words as effectively as weapons.

He was not prepared for his growls to give way to sobs.

For a second time, Janus found himself the sole source of comfort to a crying side, but at least this time he had the benefit of experience.

Janus sat down on the stairs after ensuring they were clear of broken glass, close at hand without crossing any boundaries. He whispered reassurances, half-lies and half-truths mingling until honesty lost its meaning.

_“It’s going to get better, Virgil. Everything’s going to be alright. I promise. I’ll_ make _it alright, I—”_

He hovered nearby, knowing Virgil wouldn’t respond well to touch, but after a few moments something else struck him.

“Virgil,” he said suddenly. “Why aren’t you wearing your new hoodie?”

At once Virgil’s hand darted to his hood as if reassuring himself it was still in place, but Deceit found the neutral grey pattern all-too familiar. It was the first time he’d seen him wear the old one since the costume change.

“ _Don’t want to talk about it._ ”

“Please,” he begged. “Tell me what’s _wrong_.”

“ _Thomas **hates** me,_” he whispered between choked back sobs, barely audible even in the silent room.

Janus blinked in disbelief. “What on Earth gave you that idea, Vee?”

Instead of replying, his hand left the hood to grip his hair, and Deceit caught a flash of black nail polish when it passed through the light between the banisters. Something else he hadn’t seen him wear since he left the Dark.

Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach.

“Virgil?” he asked softly. “Can you look at me?”

He knew he’d struck a nerve when the side stiffened.

“Please let me help. Just let me see.”

With shaking fingers, Virgil pulled the hood back off his face, but he couldn’t seem to work up the nerve to lift his head.

Janus reached forward with the slowness and care someone might offer a cornered wildcat. It wouldn’t be the first time Virgil had hissed at him, but instead the side allowed him to hook a gloved hand under his chin and gently raise his head.

Black streaks ran in rivers down his face, thick as tar and darker than even Virgil had ever managed to make his eyeshadow.

“ _I can’t shift back,_ ” he sobbed, black eyes glinting in the dim light. _Too many eyes_. “ _I told Thomas I used to be one of you, and now he thinks I’m a **monster**._”

Staring into those empty eyes, he might as well have been staring at a ghost, though Paranoia never truly died. It still felt like it when Virgil left them.

Banishing his reservations, Janus threw his arms around the other side.

“Then he isss a _fool_ ,” he hissed, hugging the side fiercely. For a moment he thought Virgil might argue or shove him away with a hiss of his own, but instead of resisting he buried his face in Janus’ shoulder and lost any remnant of composure he’d been clinging to.

Where Patton drew inwards, too burnt out to even fully process Janus’ presence in the room, Virgil struggled to bite back the scream that threatened to tear its way out of his throat. He gripped the fabric of Deceit’s capelet as if intending to rip it straight from his back. In that moment, he wouldn’t have cared if Virgil tore it to shreds right in front of him.

“No one hates you, Virgil,” he murmured when the sobs died down to quiet whimpering.

“ _Not even Remus?_ ” he asked, only half-joking. “ _…Not even you?_ ”

“ _No one,_ ” Janus repeated. “And Thomas least of all. He loves all of you Light sides.”

“ _But I’m— I’m not—”_

“You’re what you _choose_ to be,” Janus said, and his tone left no room for argument. “When you left the Dark, you made a choice to be something different. Something _better_.”

“ _Then why do I look like **this?**_ ”

That was one question Janus couldn’t answer, but he hugged his friend tightly and prayed he’d hear his words.

“It doesn’t matter how you look, or how many eyes you have. They _care_ about you. Nothing is going to change that.”

“ _…You’re really telling the truth this time?_ ”

“I wouldn’t lie. Not about that.”

Virgil leaned into his side, and Janus tried to imagine what the others would say if they walked in just then. Janus half-sprawled across the stairs with Virgil face buried in his shoulder, sitting on the floor in the wreckage of a room that may as well have been hit by a hurricane.

Despite himself, Janus began to laugh. Driven by the same hysteria and twisted sense of humour, it wasn’t long before Virgil joined in.

“ _Hey, Janus?_ ”

“Mmm?”

“ _I know I never acted like it…but I missed you. After I left, I mean._ ”

“All you ever had to do was say the word.”

“ _But I **left**. I got the Light sides and Thomas to listen to me and I just…up and left you and Remus in the Dark._”

“You made a choice,” Janus replied, combing his gloved fingers through the knots and tangles of Virgil’s unkept hair. “You chose to be a better person. How could I _ever_ fault you for finding a family who care about you?”

“ _You cared,_ ” he said stubbornly, but the tension in his voice was quickly giving way to exhaustion. “ _You and the Others…You were my family._ ”

Janus continued to tease out the matted tangles in his hair as Virgil’s breathing evened out, and the shaking began to subside.

“We still are,” he murmured, unsure if the anxious side was still awake to hear it. “If you’ll let us.”

And in that moment, while the anxious side slept, Janus made yet another promise. This one may not have been spoken aloud, but if a single honest bone existed in his body, he would honour it.

_I’m going to fix this_ , he vowed. _I’m going to fix_ all _of this…Even if it kills me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know I've already hit you guys with a boat load of angst (I PROMISE we'll get to the comfort eventually) but it's time for me to get sappy. I have been absolutely blown away by the response I've gotten on this fic. Really. I don't upload works all that often, and when I do they tend to be completed beforehand, but I've gotten some of the kindest comments I've ever received on the first two chapters (and I've been pretty lucky when it comes to kind-hearted readers in the past). Hopefully this chapter didn't disappoint, I know some of you probably expected me to save Virgil till last but after Roman's appearance in the last episode, I've got pretty big plans for him.
> 
> I still can't really believe I've written almost 9000 words in only a couple of days. Here's hoping I can finish Roman's chapter before I run out of steam (or my coursework catches up with me)
> 
> Someone made FANART?!?!?!  
> I am so far beyond words right now. A million thanks to the insanely talented SomethingStranger28!  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CBcAhCfHH9J/  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CBewG51HkcW/


	4. Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denial isn't just a river in Egypt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tosses confetti*  
> I’m late to celebrate but we passed 200 kudos in less than two days. I don’t even-  
> Honestly, the encouragement I've received on this bizarre little fic has been insane. I can't thank you all enough.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Roman slammed the door in his face before he could even finish the word “hello”.

“Oh, come on, Princey!” Janus shouted through the door. “I’m just here to talk.”

For once, the fanciful side offered no witty retort. No clever comeback. Not even a snide comment.

Already, he got the sense his previous tactics wouldn’t work as well here.

He tried shouting desperate pleas through the door, but either Roman couldn’t hear him or he dismissed it all as lies. He tried knocking out the tunes to Disney songs on the off chance the same tactic would work on Roman, but he retaliated by blasting “Friends on the Other Side” loud enough to drown out all other attempts at communication.

So, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Janus could be patient when he needed to be. Oh, so _very_ patient. While Thomas slept and the rest of the sides consoled themselves in their room, he waited close at hand on the off-chance an opportunity would arise.

Unfortunately, Roman could be just as stubborn when he set his mind to it.

It wasn’t working, and though Janus would normally be willing to wait as long as it took to meet his goals, the deterioration of Thomas’ mental state was a time-sensitive issue. He couldn’t afford to wait around for weeks until Roman grew frustrated enough to pick a fight that could well lead nowhere at all. Not with Logan’s room shrinking by the day, and Patton drawing in on himself while Virgil tore his room apart.

He didn’t know how to help the others, and he certainly didn’t know how to help Roman, but damn it if he wasn’t going to try. For Logan, who was no doubt scrambling to keep Thomas functioning on a day to day basis even as their host unconsciously phased him out. For Patton, who he could only hope was resting instead of berating himself for needing time for himself…For Virgil, who was probably ripping the stove right out of the wall as Deceit sat on the floor outside of Roman’s door.

More than ever before, Janus needed a creative solution. If not for their sake, then for Thomas’. But how could he help a side who wouldn’t even open his door?

Well, the answer to that seemed rather obvious in hindsight. When no doors are available to you, find a window.

And he knew exactly where to go to find a window into Roman’s room.

“It’s been a while, Remus,” Deceit said with a fondness he didn’t have to fake.

“Dee?” the other half of creativity asked, blinking owlishly before his face split into a wide grin of too-sharp teeth. “You came _back!_ ”

Guilt rose in his throat, threatening to strangle the soothing lies on the tip his tongue. It would be so _easy_ to assure him that his move to the Light had been temporary, or a ploy to earn their trust…but they’d known each other too long for that. Lying could never be completely off limits with Deceit, no matter how close they got to friendship, but betraying trust? Somehow that didn’t feel the same.

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s looking like you might be the _sane_ one around here?” he asked, and it was worth it just to hear Remus cackle.

“Light sides aren’t as perfect as they pretend to be, huh?” The glint in his eye told Deceit the information wasn’t new to him. _That basta-_

“How much have you heard?” he asked wearily.

“Oh, you know how the sound carries down here. Are you staying?”

In truth, Janus wasn’t sure he had the energy to cope with Remus’ everchanging room, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He stepped through the recreation of the apartment front door and into the living room with confident strides, even as something squelched unpleasantly under his shoe.

No matter the state of the room, a handful of features usually survived his constant reconstructions. The dim lights washing the room in a pale green glow, the drawings taped to the walls without order or reason (though the content never stayed the same for long), even the plants.

Janus shuddered at the repressed memories of the first time Thomas watched Little Shop of Horrors, and the monstrous, man-eating plants that had overrun his room in the months that followed.

In search of a distraction, Janus absently perused some of the papers strewn across the coffee table. “Why, you _have_ been busy.”

It hurt when Remus’ face lit up at the first sign of interest in his work. Deceit made a mental note to visit the side more often when things calmed down with the Light sides again.

“You like them?”

“I do. The ones of the latest episode, especially,” he said with some amusement as he flipped through a scribbled cartoon rendering of his fight with Patton (though with more blood and viscera than he remembered). In fact, Remus seemed to take great interest in Patton’s little meltdown. He shifted through the pages, trying not to look too closely at the ones Remus had labelled _Patton-Frog Soup_. Among the immature renditions and unintelligible scribbles, Janus was surprised to find the gore-splattered remains of their trolley problem scenario.

“You found this interesting?” he asked, tapping the page for emphasis.

“Thomas watching his closest friends be ripped to pieces by an unstoppable train while he stands by and does nothing? How could I _not?_ ”

“I suppose putting it like that, it _is_ right up your alley.”

“Speaking of putting things up my-“

Deceit held up a hand to stop him before he could take that line of thought any further. “I admit, I walked right into that one.”

Remus threw himself down on the couch, bouncing on cushions the consistency of gelatine. Janus tried not to think about the oddly coloured stains; Remus’ room could lead down rabbit holes and he couldn’t afford to lose too much time.

“Actually, Remus,” Janus said, absently batting at one of the vines of creeping ivy attempting to encircle his wrist. “I’m here about your brother.”

The side let out an exaggerated sigh, gaze wandering to the blistering ceiling. “At least _some_ things don’t change.”

Janus perched on the arm of the couch, already making a mental note to soak his clothes in disinfectant when all of this was done. “This last episode was particularly hard on him.”

“Because you compared him to me,” Remus replied, though his voice held no trace of the bitterness one might have expected. His eyes traced patterns Janus couldn’t see above his head, one hand dangling off the edge of the couch to paint swirls in a dark, clotting liquid on the floor.

“Among other reasons, yes.”

“Are you going to apologise?”

Janus hadn’t given much thought to _what_ he would say once he actually gained entrance to the room. “It was wrong of me to use it against him like that…but no, I don’t think I will.”

Remus smiled again, more amused than dangerous this time. “I don’t think he much likes Thomas knowing about his _evil twin_.”

“No more than Patton enjoyed having his slimy snake-side around to question his oversimplified perspective of ethics,” he snorted, and Remus made a face.

“You would be so much more interesting if you actually secreted slime. Can you _imagine?_ ”

“Perhaps you should bring it up with Patton, or did you forget that he was the one to turn into an oversized toad?”

Remus giggled. “You’re _reptilian rivals._ ”

“Frogs are amphibians, dear.”

“Doesn’t have the same ring to it. I’ll have to work on that one.”

“You do that,” Janus replied, and to his surprise, he found himself able to relax. For the first time in weeks, the tension in his shoulders eased, and it was in the company of Thomas’ darkest and most twisted imaginings.

Janus wondered what that said about _him_.

“He won’t listen to you, you know.”

“Who, Patton?” he asked just to see Remus stick his tongue out in retaliation.

“My brother. He _never_ listens.”

“I have to try.”

“Why?”

“Because no one else is in a fit state to try.”

Remus rolled over onto his belly, resting his chin on his palms, and smearing something red across his cheek. “But why do you _care?_ ”

Janus turned the question over in his mind, pondering it carefully. Immediately he leapt to the reasons Remus would be most likely to accept. It took some unravelling to find the truth at the source of his many deceptions.

“I want Thomas to succeed,” he replied at last. “I may be vain, but even I wouldn’t go so far as to claim I could pilot this ship alone. We are all but cogs in a once well-oiled machine. The Light sides _must_ return to their places.”

Not a word of it was a lie, but they tasted like half-truths on his tongue. Fragmented facts didn’t paint a complete picture, but then again, he doubted Remus of all sides would expect him to hand over that kind of information so easily.

“And you promise not to hurt him?”

Remus’ eyes met his, reflecting back the soft green tinge of the room with an ominous glow. Without hesitation, Janus plucked his hat from his head and held it to his chest.

“Whatever happens,” he vowed. “I will do everything in my power to help rather than hurt him.”

“No biting?” he asked suspiciously.

“No biting.”

“Even if he hurts you first?”

Janus paused, and Remus rolled his eyes fondly. “Come on, Jan, you know us better than that by now. _La passione_ doesn’t just apply to the romance department.”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Does that mean I have your word?”

“You do,” he replied, returning his hat to its rightful place. “For all that’s worth.”

“It’s good enough for me.” Remus sprang onto the back of the couch with a sudden burst of energy, lethargic one moment and a blur of movement the next. “Now, let me see…”

The Duke tapped his chin with a manicured nail, considering the best way to smuggle Deceit into his brother’s room. “I suppose the direct approach is the most reliable.”

He plucked at a long sheet of fabric meant to hide a fixture on the wall, peeling it away from the peculiar sticky substance that seemed to coat all the walls in the side’s room.

“He patches most of the cracks in his room, but you’re in luck, Two-Face. This old thing never stays broken for long.”

The mirror looked far more ornate than anything else in Remus’ room. In fact, it positively gleamed, shining even in shadow where the silver vines cradled the oval-shaped looking glass. Remus brushed the metal leaves almost reverently.

“It takes time for the fractures to heal,” he explained, and at once any semblance of delicacy vanished as he jostled it until it dislodged from its hook. “Sometimes a day, sometimes months. There are always other ways past his defences, but for you…Yes, I should think this would be the safest.”

Then, with a wicked grin he added, “Wouldn’t want you an arm short, would we?”

Janus regarded the mirror with caution. He saw no indication of another room within it, but he didn’t dare doubt Remus’ word.

Somehow, it didn’t occur to him until his face was bare inches from the glass that he couldn’t see his own reflection in it.

“How does it work?”

“Best at a bit of a run, if you’re nervous.”

Janus returned it with a look of disbelief. “You _must_ be joking.”

“You tell me. You’re the Lord of the Lies, after all.”

“Sprinting at a mirror? That’s your idea of a safe entry?”

Remus shrugged. “I did say saf _est_.”

Grumbling to himself, Janus took a few steps back to get a running start.

“If this works,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’ll find a way to repay you for it someday.”

Remus brushed him off with a dismissive wave. “Just get my brother back to his usual, obnoxious self. Do you have any idea how _hard_ it is to irritate him when he’s wasting all our best insults on himself _?_ ”

“I’ll certainly try.” _And pray that it’s enough._

“Hey, Dee-Dee?” Remus asked. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

The sudden change in topic would have given Janus whiplash if he weren’t so used to it by now.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Remus smiled, so unlike his usual sharp-toothed grin. His face didn’t suit the solemn sadness, nor did his eyes, so bright and wild, suit the look of longing. In that moment, without the makeup and moustache, Janus really might have mistaken him for Roman. “You can’t fool me, you old snake-oil salesman. You know what I’m talking about.”

To see Remus take something seriously was a bad omen indeed. Perhaps Thomas was in even worse trouble than he’d feared.

“Everything I hoped for,” Deceit agreed. “And so much _more._ ”

To his surprise, he found no trace of the resentment he’d anticipated. Remus’ eyes crinkled in something close to pride, and for the first time in too many years, Deceit remembered that Creativity predated him.

“I suppose it’s time for you to rescue the dashing Prince up in his tower for a change…Whether he wants to be saved or not.”

God help them both.

Janus tried to keep his eyes open, ducking his head to keep from knocking it against the top of the metal frame, but he couldn’t keep them from flying shut as his foot came into contact with the mirror and-

He pitched forward with a curse, the sound of shattering glass filling the air as he fell and fell and-

Red fabric obscured his vision when he opened his eyes, entangling him as he tried in vain to land on his feet. The impact jarred his shoulder, shards of the mirror crunching beneath him as he hit the ground with some force.

At least now he could tell which way was up again.

Cursing himself for taking Remus’ advice, he managed to disentangle himself from the velvet red curtain just in time to see the sword swinging for his head.

Even without Virgil’s fight-or-flight reflexes, a lifetime of living in close proximity to Remus and his morning star was training enough for this.

He threw himself to one side, rolling gracelessly to avoid the blow. A distant part of him mourned the loss of his hat in all the chaos, but he reasoned he had bigger concerns.

Roman stared at him, wild eyes wide with disbelief. In all the years they’d known each other, Janus couldn’t remember ever seeing the side so dishevelled. His hair stuck up at odd angles in unstyled tangles, his usually pristine uniform wrinkled and askew. The dark bags under his eyes made him think the side hadn’t slept since the events of the last episode (not that Deceit had much room to judge).

His hold on his katana faltered, just for a moment, before he overcame his surprise and his eyes grew cold.

“What are you doing here, you serpentine scoundrel?” he demanded. “Where’s my brother?”

“Not coming, I’m afraid,” Deceit replied, brushing off the mirror fragments still clinging to his clothes. There wasn’t much to be done for his appearance aside from adjusting his capelet and smoothing out his shirt. “I apologise for barging in like this. I did _try_ to knock but-“

“Was my slamming the door in your face not clear enough for you? I. Don’t. Want. You. Here,” he said, punctuating every word. Deceit’s gaze wandered back to the sword hanging limply at his side.

“Be that as it may, I believe there are still a few issues we need to resolve.”

“Oh? And what _issues_ would those be?” Roman scoffed.

“I need your help, Roman.”

Once again, the fanciful side was stunned into silence. “You can’t be serious.”

“This goes far beyond our disagreements over what is best for Thomas. This is-“

“Oh, let me guess, you need my help convincing the others to let Thomas cancel plans with his friends again? Or are you just going to drive him to have yet _another_ panic attack over whether he’s a good person or not?”

“That’s not-“

“Everything was _fine_ before you started showing your scaly face again,” Roman snarled. “You may have Patton all turned around, but don’t think for a _second_ that I don’t remember _exactly_ what you are.”

“Thomas was in denial long before I got directly involved!” Deceit snapped before he could consider his words. “Is that _really_ what you call _fine?_ Convincing himself he was a saint by shutting all the nasty thoughts away? Limiting his opportunities and sacrificing his mental wellbeing because he couldn’t even _consider_ the moral greys of ethics without challenging his own fragile world view?”

He regretted the words as soon as they slipped off his tongue, but it was too late to try and take them back now.

“Oh, and I suppose you’d prefer it if he gave into every sick and twisted thought that crossed his mind?!”

“That’s _not_ what I-“

“Let’s just offer my brother a seat at the table too, shall we? I’m sure he’ll have a few _wonderful_ suggestions about exactly _how_ he’d like Thomas to dismember his closest friends.”

“Just because he-“

“And _hey_ ,” Roman barrelled on, throwing up his arms. “While we’re at it, why don’t we call it a party and invite your-“

Deceit couldn’t say what force possessed him to silence the side he’d been so desperate to speak with, but with a twist of his wrist, Roman’s hand flew up to cover his mouth.

They stared at one another, though it was hard to say who was the most surprised by his actions.

“I’m sorry,” Janus said as soon as he’d recovered, releasing control of the side at once. “I didn’t mean to…”

He shook his head. _Honesty. That’s what they asked for. You can give them that much, at least, can’t you?_

“That’s…a lie,” he said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes and counting back from ten. “I did mean to, but I _shouldn’t_ have. It was wrong of me to silence you…Perhaps visiting you myself was a mistake, after all.”

“…Well, at least you’re big enough to admit it.”

Janus’ eyes flew open to find Roman running a hand through his unkept hair, almost bashful as he averted his gaze.

“I didn’t come here to fight you, Roman,” he said quietly, and the fanciful side forced out a laugh.

“Could have fooled me.”

Janus frowned. “You don’t make apologising easy, you know that?”

“What can I say?” Roman asked, raising his hands in a ‘ _what can you do?’_ kind of gesture. “In case the last episode didn’t make it painfully apparent, I like to make things difficult for everyone.”

The sword was gone, Janus noted almost as an afterthought. He wondered if he should be concerned that he didn’t notice when it vanished.

Instead of launching into a defence Roman wouldn’t believe a word of, Janus let out a weary sigh. “Let’s take a walk.”

_That_ got his attention.

“And where, dare I ask, would we be walking?” the creative side asked, arching an eyebrow. In lieu of an answer, Deceit gestured to the room around them.

“Last I checked, you make up half of Thomas’ creativity.”

A flash or irritation crossed Roman’s face, but he allowed the room to fall away, stripped back like a sheet over a canvas to reveal the raw imagination beneath. Grass sprouted from the floor beneath their feet, the ceiling opening up to the pale blue sky overhead. He watched with interest as the walls dissolved into lush green trees, the furniture melding with the foliage. Last to adapt were the potted houseplants scattered around the room, but they too grew wild and untamed to fit the scene and settled in amongst the other flora.

The wide dirt road made it easy to pick a direction, and Janus would be lying if he claimed not to relish in the sunlight warming his scales. The road ahead was straight, without curves or pitfalls to trip him up. He allowed his eyelids to slide closed, tilting his head back and letting out a contented sigh. Perhaps he should take his own advice more often, self-care was too important to ignore.

“Why do you do that?” Roman asked.

“I’m not used to getting much sunlight.”

“Not _that_ ,” he replied irritably. “Why do you keep bringing Remus into this?”

Janus cracked open a serpentine eye. “Contrary to your belief, it’s not an insult to say the resemblance is uncanny.”

“How is that _not_ an insult?”

“Well, for starters, we all share the same face.”

Already Roman looked ready to start tearing out clumps of his own hair. “I _know_ you do it on purpose.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “With Virgil striking out on his own, you could say Remus is my oldest…friend.”

The word felt heavy on his tongue and sounded foreign to his ears. Roman seemed to find it just as peculiar.

“You? _Friends?_ ” he asked incredulously.

“We were in the Dark for the better part of three decades, is it really so surprising?”

“But…” Roman faltered. “How did you _stand_ him?”

“He’s not so bad when you get used to him,” Janus shrugged, frowning when Roman replied with disbelieving laughter. “Really, if you just give him a chance-“

“I don’t _want_ to get used to him. I want him gone, but he just won’t leave me alone.”

“Because he misses you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Do you remember being the King?”

Roman halted mid-step, staring at Janus as if he couldn’t comprehend what he’d just said.

“We don’t talk about that,” he whispered. “Not _ever._ ”

“Because you don’t like to think about it,” Janus replied. “You don’t like to remember that you were once the same side.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” he asked, and this time it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “What’s my _job_ again?”

“I’m not lying about-“

“You’re lying to _yourself_ , sweet Prince, and that is _very_ much my department. I don’t just handle the issues Thomas himself wishes to repress, you know, and denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

Roman glowered.

“I don’t think you’re the evil twin, Roman,” Janus continued. “There _is_ no ‘evil twin’. There is you, and there is Remus. Two halves of the same whole, assigned arbitrary labels based on childish ethics that you’ve never truly been able to see past. But you can’t run from your past forever, and you _certainly_ can’t hide from Remus.”

“I can try,” Roman grumbled under his breath.

“And under different circumstances, I would be all too willing to lend a hand, but eventually the issues pile up until there are simply too many to ignore. I’m not just talking about you, either. All of you Light sides seem to have a list of issues a mile long.”

Roman kicked a loose stone on the path and sent it skittering across the dirt. “You make it sound so _easy_. Stop ignoring your issues and they’ll resolve themselves, but it’s not that simple, is it? If I stop suppressing my brother, he’ll become _more_ of a nuisance, not less.”

“Have you tried?” Janus asked. “Have you tried inviting him inside instead of waiting for him to find a way around your defences?”

“Well, I…”

“Have you ever tried just… _talking_ to him?”

Roman didn’t reply, but it was answer enough for them both.

He stopped walking, swaying in place as if he might faint before he shook his head and stepped off the path to lie down on the grassy bank. Janus blinked, waiting for him to get up again, but he didn’t.

“Well, snake-eyes? Are you just going to stand there all day?”

Deceit approached with caution, eyes flickering to the sky as he tried to determine what Roman was staring at, but all he saw were the fluffy white clouds high above their heads. The Imagination could be a dangerous place. Remus drilled that concept into his head a long time ago.

When it became clear the fanciful side had no intention of moving any time soon, Janus lay down on the grass beside him.

He couldn’t remember when he last spent time in the company of another side without sparing a thought to his appearance, but for once, he didn’t care how vulnerable he must look to an outsider.

They watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky in comfortable silence, neither one willing to be the first to break it.

“Baby steps,” Janus said, so soft the words mingled with the rustling of the trees, but Roman hummed in agreement.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said with a sigh. For once, he spoke without the energy and enthusiasm that always set him apart from the rest. Janus turned his head to hold his exhausted gaze.

“I could help you figure it out,” Janus offered. “If you’ll let me.”

“You and me working together?” Roman cracked a smile. “Just like old times, huh Janus?”

“Together, like old times,” Janus echoed. “We’ll find a way to make this okay.”

“You know, when you say it like that…I think I might just believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...This chapter turned out a lot longer than I anticipated. I very briefly considered splitting it in two, but I couldn't stand to split the twins up. Hopefully it didn't come across as too bloated. Also please give me your thoughts on my attempts at writing Remus and Roman? I've got two more chapters of this to go, and as much as I love them both, I don't feel anywhere near as confident writing them as any of the other sides.
> 
> Also, side note, I would be remiss not to acknowledge thein273 for leaving me some of the kindest, longest comments I have ever received. And to all the rest of you who've been leaving me comments on this thing, I wouldn't be keeping going without you.
> 
> Well, the next chapter is the one I've simultaneously been looking forward to the most and positively dreading. Finger's crossed I get it out in the next week!


	5. Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and the sides are long overdue an open conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Writing a 5k chapter when I'm supposed to be studying? Projecting personal issues onto fictional characters when I can't cope anymore? It's more likely than you think.

“Thomas, we need to talk.”

Thomas, to his credit, barely flinched when Deceit rose up without warning in Logan’s spot, clad in his usual costume, though it looked a little worse for wear. He ran a gloved hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing out the creases in his capelet with one subtle gesture, but his collar remained stubbornly crooked.

“Janus,” he said with a frown. “Uh, I wasn’t really planning on doing a sides video today, buddy. I was just recording the intro for the—"

Deceit drew in a deep breath, shoving back the urge to slink back into the shadows. _What’s the point in getting a seat at the table if I can’t give Thomas the help he needs?_ “Respectfully, I must insist.”

Thomas blinked. “Well…if there’s something you really need to talk about that you feel can’t wait…”

That was all it took. A polite request, and Thomas deferred to his judgement. No objections on pure principle, no suspicion over his motives. Despite the stress and exhaustion of trying to pull the sides together, that acknowledgement alone almost made it all worth it.

He drew himself up to his full height, smoothing out his clothes and adjusting the angle of his hat.

“Would you like any of the others involved in…whatever _this_ is?” Thomas asked. It occurred to Janus that this was only the second time they’d ever spoken alone before, but if anything, Thomas’ curiosity seemed more pressing than his wariness.

“Actually, all of this is _about_ your other sides, Thomas. Have you spoken to any of them since the last video?”

Thomas’ brow furrowed. “I guess…maybe Logan a couple times? I just figured everyone was taking some time to cool off.”

“If only it were that simple,” Janus muttered before straightening up again. He didn’t have much practice with summoning the other sides; he’d never _needed_ to before, but he understood the theory. “I think it might be best if we start with Roman and Patton.”

Roman rose to the call without hesitation, unrecognisable from the side Janus had seen only days before. Any trace of exhaustion had been banished from his features, though Janus suspected makeup aided the effect more than a good night’s sleep.

“Did someone ca— Oh, it’s you.” His face fell when his eyes landed on Deceit, a complicated mix of emotions flashing behind his eyes before they settled on discontent.

“Now, Roman, I know you guys didn’t exactly…see eye-to-eye in the last episode,” Thomas said nervously, shooting a glance at Patton’s empty space as if half-hoping he would appear to mediate. Morality gave no sign of responding to the call. “But if we just hear what he has to—”

“There’s no need to persuade me, Thomathy,” Roman told him, albeit with a sour expression. “The snake has already stated his case to me in private. Though, I admit, I didn’t expect you to take up the issue with our _host_.”

“Your issues are Thomas’ issues,” Janus said, “which is why we need _everyone_ present for this. Morality?”

“Uh, Patton?” Thomas echoed. “You feel like joining us, buddy?”

At that, Patton finally made an appearance. He stumbled back as if from rising up too quickly, shaking his head, as if from a daze.

Thomas frowned. “Are you alright?”

At once, Patton’s childish enthusiasm returned full-force. “Well, of course I am!” he said with a little too much vigour.

“Except you’re not.”

Patton faltered as one by one the sides turned around to face him, a weighted silence falling over the living room. Janus pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes. “I’m aware that this is rich coming from the side that _enables_ you all to deceive yourselves, but this pattern of pretending your issues aren’t there in the hopes that they’ll go away on their own isn’t _working_.”

“I know you’re new to this, but surely even you must have noticed by now that talking about our issues is _kiiiiiind_ of our whole shtick,” Roman reminded him. “Or did you miss the part where we spent an hour discussing whether or not Thomas is a good person through video game graphics the other day? Or the part where we spent another forty minutes debating whether he was a good person in a courtroom? Or the part where—”

“There’s a difference between debating moral dilemmas and opening up about your issues, Roman,” Janus explained patiently. “Or do you need me to get Logan to explain how repression only exacerbates the issue since you missed that lecture the first time around?”

“All right guys,” Thomas interrupted, holding up his arms as if to physically separate the two sides. “Let’s just take it easy, all right? If you guys have issues you want to get out in the—”

“I do _not_ have issues.”

“And that conversation we had in your room?” Deceit hissed. “That meant _nothing?_ ”

“A moment of temporary weakness,” Roman said coldly. “I assure you it will _not_ happen again.”

“And what about you, Patton?”

“Hmm?”

“ _Patton_.”

The side’s eyes snapped back into focus and he looked up in surprise. “Sorry, didn’t catch that, kiddo.”

Janus bit back the urge to scream.

“If I may interrupt,” a new voice broke through, and without giving it a conscious thought, Janus instinctively stepped aside to make room. “I believe my input may be valuable in this discussion.”

Roman huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “We don’t _need_ more input because there’s nothing to _discuss_.”

Logan adjusted his tie, but the knot remained stubbornly crooked. In fact, looking at him closer, everything about him seemed askew. His squint glasses, his ruffled hair, even the wrinkles in his usually pristine shirt. All of it contributed to the impression that Logan _really_ hadn’t been anticipating a drop-in today.

“Really? So you don’t think the fact that Patton had a literal breakdown over his inability to process a hypothetical ethical dilemma, causing him to transform into a giant anthropomorphic amphibian and threaten the lives of Thomas’ closest friends is worth discussing?”

_That_ shut him up. Roman might be reluctant to admit his own weaknesses, but he certainly wasn’t about to dismiss the other sides’. Janus offered Logan an approving look and pretended not to notice when the corner of his mouth twitched in response.

“Patton?” Thomas hesitated. “Are you…are you sure everything’s okay with you, buddy?”

Patton blinked again and looked around as if surprised to find all eyes on him. “I…I _think_ so…”

“Not to mention, there’s another side whose absence you’ve all been steadfastly ignoring,” Janus reminded them when it became clear that Patton had nothing else to add. “Or have you all forgotten about Anxiety?”

At the mention of his name, Patton’s head swivelled to the stairs, the hopefulness in his gaze undisguised as he bounced on the balls of his feet and waited for his friend to appear.

Of course, the side did not.

“It is not uncommon for Virgil to request time for himself,” Logan said, though even he sounded unsure. “We have learned that it is better to respect his boundaries when he asks to be left alone.”

“For weeks?” Janus asked with a raised eyebrow. “ _Months?_ While I stand out in the open and corrupt Thomas with my wicked ways?”

Logan frowned. “While your description is not entirely accurate, I must agree that Virgil’s extended absence in the face of your recent appearance is…out of character.”

“And the fact that he’s refusing to show face as we talk about him behind his back?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed.

“Are…are you saying something’s _wrong_ with Virgil?” Patton asked in a small voice.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean-“

“Actually, I am.” Janus replied, cutting off Thomas’ attempts at false reassurance with an apologetic look. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“This is ridiculous,” Roman scoffed. “If Virgil is in trouble, why wouldn’t he approach us? Anxiety, show yourself!”

“It’s not quite that simple.”

“Well, _I_ for one would like to hear it from the horse’s mouth, if it’s all the same to you.”

“From the…” Logan echoed. His brow furrowed in confusion. “What on Earth does that have to do with-?”

“Virgil!” Patton called, worry stressing the lines of his face. “Come down here, kiddo! You’re starting to worry us.”

“Oh for Goodness sake,” Roman said, raising his hand with a flourish. “Why don’t we just-?”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Janus warned, but too late. Virgil tumbled to the floor in a scramble of limbs, hissing and spitting curses all the while.

Patton clapped his hands over his ears, scandalised while Roman took a visible step back. Virgil’s gripped the strings of his sweatshirt, keeping the hood scrunched low over his face to hide as much of his skin as humanly possible, but it did nothing to muffle his tempest tongue.

“ _Warn a dude next time_ ,” he hissed, rocking as he tried to get a handle on his panic.

“I…I’m sorry, Virgil,” Roman said, though he didn’t look sure what for. “If I’d realised you were so…”

“ _So **what** Roman?_”

“Now, now, there’s no need to get snippy with-“

“ _There’s **every** need._”

“Hey,” Thomas said, a warning edge lacing his words. “Roman said he’s sorry. We’re all just worried about you, Virge.”

Virgil stiffened beneath the hood, inclining his head as if to regard Thomas through the thick waves of hair obscuring his face before he let out a huff and sank back down to sit on the landing. “ _Can I go, then?_ ”

“I’m…not sure that would be beneficial to anyone,” Logan replied with a frown. “How long have you been experiencing this heightened state of anxiety?”

All but Janus winced at the grating laugh that tore its way from Virgil’s throat. “ _You **are** kidding right? Being anxious is my **job**._”

“But not normally to this degree, you must admit.” Virgil huffed again.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked timidly. “Can you tell us what’s bothering you so much? We only want to help.”

Virgil shuddered, drawing further in on himself. “ _You really don’t want to know, Pat._ ”

“They want to help you, Virgil,” Janus said, and he could feel the glare even beneath the hood. “But you need to let them in before that can happen.”

He let out another half-hearted hiss, more on principle than out of genuine protest. Hunched over and hugging his legs to his chest again, Janus couldn’t help but notice how very small he looked.

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, his voice soft and reassuring. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I promise none of us are going to get mad or laugh or…whatever it is you’re so worried about happening. We all just want to help you through this, buddy. Do you think you could tell us all what’s going on?”

For a moment, Janus feared it wouldn’t be enough. Virgil’s grip on the hoodie strings tightened until his nails dug deep into the palms of his hands, shying away from the prying eyes fixed solely on him.

“Okay,” he whispered, little more than an exhale though the distortions amplified the singular word. The echoes carried it to every corner of the room, reverberating long after they all fell silent.

They waited while he gathered his courage, none willing to risk making him change his mind. He pried his fingers apart and allowed them to hover over his hood, taking deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. When he faltered again, Janus chose to take a chance.

“I’m right here with you, Virgil,” he said softly, willing his words to take hold. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

“Just like ripping a band-aid off,” Thomas chimed in, and Janus must have missed some inside joke because the tension eased in Virgil’s shoulders.

Before he could reconsider, he threw back the hood and cringed away from the harsh light of the living room. The dark streaks streaming from both eyes no longer glistened but were dry on his skin like great smears of charcoal dust. Janus shot him a reassuring smile he was confident at least one of his eight eyes would catch, though they appeared fixed on the other sides.

“ _SWEET LAIR OF SHELOB_ ,” Roman shrieked, and Virgil’s lip curled to flash jagged canines. “ _WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR_ FACE _?!_ ”

“ _If I knew that, don’t you think I would have **fixed** it by now?_”

“This,” Janus interrupted before their bickering match could escalate. “Is how I knew Virgil as a Dark side. Though the logistics are lost on me, he seems unable to shift back to his usual form.”

“How curious,” Logan said under his breath, eyes brimming with curiosity. “Somehow, in revealing your history as a Dark side to Thomas, you have been forced to revert back into your previous state.”

Virgil looked like he wanted to snap back with a retort, but one of his many eyes caught sight of Patton’s expression, and he swivelled his head to look at him.

“ _Patton?_ ” he asked, and for the first time since he’d left his room, he sounded nervous rather than defensive.

Morality stared, eyes wide as the blood drained from his face leaving him as pale and immobile as marble. The black beneath Anxiety’s eyes darkened as fresh streaks rolled down his cheeks, oozing from beneath his eyes like spilled ink.

“ _Patton,_ ” he pleaded as the blackness dripped down his chin. “ _Patton it’s **me**._”

Janus didn’t pride himself on emotion anymore than Logan did. Sentiment complicated matters. It opened doors for manipulation that Janus happily walked through, allowed him room to barter and twist the sides around his fingers, but he didn’t hesitate to cast all that aside and close the space between him and the former dark side. His face remained impassive, but Virgil didn’t hesitate to bury his face against his shoulder.

Janus didn’t bother with reassuring words this time, knowing nothing would quiet the racking sobs.

“I did this,” Thomas whispered, his voice hollow as he watched on in mounting horror. “You told me you were- Oh God- Virgil I _swear_ I never meant to-“

“You can’t control your subconscious perceptions, Thomas,” Logan said quietly.

Janus ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair and failed to swallow back the bitter taste of regret…when a hand touched his shoulder.

He looked up to find Patton crouched behind him on the stairs, eyes once blank with fear now wide with concern.

“Virgil?” he asked, and the anxious side sucked in a breath. “Oh, Virgil. I’m so _sorry_ , kiddo.”

If anything, Virgil cried harder than before when Patton hugged him. Great smears of ink splattered across the pale blue of his polo shirt, but he hugged Virgil more fiercely than ever when the side stuttered out an apology for it.

To the surprise of everyone in the living room, Roman was the next to join them. He crossed the room in a handful of strides, taking mechanical steps as if compelled without thought or reason, and dropped down to kneel at the foot of the stair.

“I know we fight often,” he said with a sombre expression that rarely graced his face. “But I want you to know that this changes nothing between us, Anxiety. I swear to do everything in my power to help reverse…whatever has caused you this suffering, but your appearance has no bearing on our friendship. _None_.”

“It’s true,” Thomas spoke up at last. The devastation in his face didn’t lessen, but he crossed the room to join them on the stairs. Janus had never so much as shaken hands with their host, but before he knew it, an arm slung round his shoulders and Thomas joined the awkward group hug.

“Well, Roman?” Janus asked when the fanciful side froze in place. “Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

“Well…I didn’t want to crowd him. You know how our emo gets about personal boundaries and-“

Virgil might have rolled his eyes, but without any visible whites it would have been impossible to tell.

“ _Idiot,_ ” he mumbled into Patton’s cardigan, but the fondness in his tone was unmistakeable.

Roman’s face lit up as the side lifted his head to look at him, and when the light hit his eyes Janus saw they were purple rather than black as they’d first appeared. Deep and unbroken yet textured like solid crystal when the sun hit them just right.

Thomas moved closer to Deceit to make space for Roman between him and Patton, and the fanciful side all but bounded up the steps to join them. It was stifling being trapped between so many bodies. His skin prickled at the thought of how _easy_ it would be for someone to get the jump on him then, how ill-positioned he’d be to defend himself should the need arise.

“Is this okay?” Thomas asked, and it took Janus a moment to realise he was the one being addressed.

“It is… _different_ ,” he decided. “But I do think something’s missing.”

“Oh?”

“ _I agree,_ ” Virgil said, squirming at the centre of the impromptu group hug. “ _Logan?_ ”

As one they craned their heads to look at the logical side who seemed to be edging out of the room. He froze as he found himself at the centre of their attention, adjusting his tie to occupy his fidgeting fingers.

“I’m glad you are receiving the validation you need to overcome your insecurity over your new…or rather, old appearance,” Logan said, as monotone as he would be reciting from a pre-written cue card. “But I do not engage in…acts of sentiment.”

“ _Please?_ ” Virgil asked, peering over Janus’ shoulder with eight pleading eyes. “ _You don’t have to hug anybody if you don’t want to but…don’t leave?_ ”

Logan’s voice caught in his throat, leaving him uncharacteristically mute. Janus shifted to sit beside Virgil rather than across from him, allowing him to press his back to the wall and leaving the space beside Thomas unoccupied.

“It really wouldn’t be the same without _everyone_ present,” Roman pointed out, budging closer to Patton to let Thomas make a bigger space. Logan approached with great reluctance, eyeing them as if he half expected them to pounce.

Virgil shot him a smile, though his face still glistened with fresh inky-tears. Logan sat down across from him, all but hugging the banister as he attempted to put as much distance between himself and the others as possible.

“While we’re airing out our deep-rooted issues,” Janus said, casually inspecting his gloves, “does anyone else have anything they’d like to share with the class?”

Logan shot him a warning look that went largely unnoticed by the group. The human half of his mouth twitched into a smile, but before he could reply, Patton spoke up.

“I care about you all,” he said in a small voice. “ _So_ much. Maybe…Maybe too much, sometimes.”

“It’s not always easy to admit that you need time for yourself,” Janus agreed, and Patton shot him a watery smile.

“It’s so _hard_ sometimes.”

Virgil leaned away from Janus to rest his head on Patton’s shoulder.

“Maybe you need to let people take care of _you_ for a change, Pat,” Thomas said, and the side screwed up his face.

“But I’m the _dad_. Your happy-pappy-Patton!”

“We’ve been over this before, Morality,” Logan cut in with a stern look. “Being the centre of Thomas’ emotions means you encompass far more than _just_ his positivity.”

“I…I _know_ that,” Patton replied, but even he didn’t sound so sure.

“But have you accepted it? There is a big difference between acknowledging a theoretical concept and truly comprehending its implications.

“Well I…”

“ _We can work on it together, Patton_ ,” Virgil murmured.

Patton said nothing but squeezed Virgil’s arm in silent thanks.

Janus’ mismatched gaze flickered towards Roman, and the side stiffened.

_You can do it,_ Janus silently urged him. _Put it into words. Just-_

“The last episode made me wonder if I’m as good an influence on Thomas as I consider myself to be,” Roman blurted out. He shrank away from the sudden attention but refused to back down now he’d started. “I always assumed my brother was responsible for all of the negative elements of our aspect, and I for all the good. Our…debate forced me to acknowledge that the world isn’t nearly so black and white.”

“That’s…really big of you to admit, Roman,” Thomas said with a smile. Logan, on the other hand, frowned.

“But that’s ridiculous,” he said, and Roman spluttered.

“ _Little harsh, Lo._ ”

“You misunderstand me,” Logan replied, frustration creeping into his voice. “I find it ridiculous that Roman could possibly believe he might be a negative influence on Thomas just because he is not _purely_ encapsulated by positive characteristics. Have we not covered this in acknowledging that Patton is responsible for sadness and grief as well as happiness? Or in establishing that Anxiety, an individual we once viewed as villainous, actually plays an essential role in Thomas’ functioning? Even if you _are_ the driving force behind some of Thomas’ selfish desires, it hardly diminishes the value of your contributions. You cannot fault yourself for falling short of perfection, Roman. Aside from being entirely subjective, it is an altogether unattainable standard to set yourself.”

They all stared at Logan in stunned silence until the side grew irritated enough to snap back. “ _What?_ ”

“Thank you,” Roman said in a quiet voice.

Logan stared at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I…you’re welcome?”

His eyes flickered back to Janus’, a bizarre mix of micro-expressions flickering across his face. Patton frowned as he looked back and forth between the pair.

“Logan?” he asked, and the side immediately stiffened. “Do you…have anything you want to talk to us about?”

“No,” he replied at once, but quick enough that even Roman looked dubious. He cleared his throat, hands straying back towards his collar. “I can appreciate the offer, but I do not see how talking about my _feelings_ could possibly be a productive use of time.”

“And yet,” Janus replied before any of the others could open their mouths to respond. “You encourage Thomas to be more open and honest with the issues he is facing. You lecture Patton on the importance of acknowledging the full spectrum of his emotions, you agree that Roman should avoid repressing his issues rather than dealing with them. You even agree that Virgil should feel free to speak out about the sources of his anxiety.”

“Yes,” Logan said slowly. “But I hardly see how those facts are relevant to my own situation.”

“And you acknowledge that there is a scientific basis to support the understanding that talking about our emotions is beneficial to the healing process?” Janus continued.

“Of course,” Logan said, growing irritated. “There have been countless psychological studies to support it. In fact, Matthew Lieberman of the UCLA was able to prove definitively that assigning labels to emotions has an observable effect on the way the brain processes-“

“I think the point the snake is trying to make is that you’re being a tad…hypocritical?” Roman suggested.

“I am _not_ being hypocritical. If I were experiencing problems of a similar nature to the rest of you, I would of course concede that discussing the issue could prove beneficial. However, considering I am under no emotional distress, what possible purpose could talking about it serve?”

“Consider it from a problem-solving standpoint, then,” Janus replied smoothly. “You have an issue that you have been unable to resolve on your own. Thomas has the means to fix the issue and I’m sure would gladly do so should he be made aware of its existence. Would it not be _illogical_ to withhold that information?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a fine line.

“Logan?” Thomas asked. “If there really is something I can help you with, you only have to ask.”

“Your efforts would be better spent on helping the others.”

“Our issues aren’t more important than yours, Lo,” Patton said with a lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You deserve help just as much as we do.”

“I can fix this _alone_ ,” Logan snapped. “I don’t _need_ anyone else’s help. I’m not- I’m not _incompetent._ ”

“No one ever said you were,” Janus replied, his voice unwavering in the face of Logan’s frustration.

“What good is it having a logical side that can’t even find a solution to their own problems?” Logan demanded. “I shouldn’t _need_ help from anyone else. I shouldn’t _need_ help at all!”

He sucked in a sharp breath, averting his eyes as shame replaced the brief spark of anger. “That was…unprofessional. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“ _Lo_.” Virgil’s grating voice didn’t lend itself to reassurance, but his softness bled through the echoing distortions. “ _We won’t think any less of you for needing **help**._”

Logan refused to meet their gaze, his face once again a blank slate. This time, when his hands returned to his necktie, he took it off completely.

“I am not listened to,” he said in a monotone voice, deft fingers working to loosen the crooked knot and smooth the wrinkles from the silky fabric. “I am not valued in the way I once was.”

Patton blinked. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that wa-“

“I’m not finished,” Logan interrupted, his intonation never changing. He adjusted the length of the strip of fabric now hanging from his neck before folding the left side over the right with practiced movements. “If it were a simple matter of a _feeling_ , I would not bother you at all. I have not reached this conclusion based on my own subjective opinions on the matter, I say this because it is now an undeniable fact. I am not valued. Thomas no longer considers me useful.”

“Logan,” Thomas breathed. “That’s not _true_ -“

“Every day my room grows smaller,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard him, straightening the now flawless knot, and smoothing out his collar. His brow furrowed as he inspected his handiwork before he tore the tie from his neck and started again. “I’ve been prioritising the storage of your episodic memory, but I’m running out of room to work. When I can no longer manage my workload…Well, I suppose I will be rendered obsolete. It’s only a matter of time before…”

His gaze never left his hands as he redid the knot over and over again, never once looking up to see the horrified faces of the other sides.

“I…I don’t understand,” Thomas whispered. Janus considered stepping in with an explanation, but Logan proved more than capable of handling the exposition.

“Sides exist to be used. If I am no longer representative of an essential aspect of your being, what is the point in expending mental energy in maintaining me?”

Without warning, Patton burst into tears.

Logan looked up in surprise, frowning as he took in their shocked expressions. “Patton? Are you alright? You seem to be in a state of distress.”

“State of distress _?_ ” Roman asked incredulously, but Virgil nudged him with his foot.

“I-I know you like your boundaries but I- Can I-? I need to…only if you’re okay with-“

“I’m…not sure what you’re asking,” Logan admitted, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“ _He wants to hug you, Lo,_ ” Virgil said softly, and understanding flashed across his face.

“I…suppose there is a basis for seeking comfort through physical comfort. If it would truly make you feel better, you of course have my permission to- _Oof!_ ”

Patton threw himself over Thomas, almost knocking all three of them down the stairs in the process. Logan stared down at the side now hanging onto him as if his life depended on it in bewilderment. He adjusted his glasses, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands before he settled on patting Patton’s shoulder.

“You’re not going _anywhere_ ,” Morality said furiously. “I’ll- I’ll tell Thomas to start watching documentaries instead of cartoons. We’ve seen them all before, anyway. And- And we can start reading those reports you liked so much when he was in college. Oh, heck, Thomas can go _back_ to college!”

“It’s…not quite that simple, Patton,” Logan replied. His voice sounded oddly strained.

“Then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Janus couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Thomas so determined, but the conviction in his voice was challenged only by the despair in Patton’s. “To help _all_ of you. And unless you really don’t want me to, I’m going to hug you now, Logic.”

“That would be…acceptable,” Logan replied, still struggling to process exactly what was happening. He stiffened when Thomas wrapped an arm around his shoulders before relaxing into the touch, his gaze flickering back and forth between the side latched onto his torso and their host drawing him into a loose hug.

Roman looked at a loss as he found himself hovering on the border of two groups, eager to support his friends but unwilling to push their already stretched boundaries.

“Well?” Janus asked lazily. “Are you going to sit there all day?”

His mismatched eyes flickered between Roman’s confused gaze and the now unoccupied spot Patton left behind. Noticing their silent exchange, Virgil shot him a smirk.

“ _What’s the matter, Princey? Afraid I’ll get eyeshadow on your sash?_ ”

Roman opened his mouth to respond, but the witty retort died on his tongue. He shook his head, a fond smile creeping over his face. “It’ll wash out.”

Virgil happily shifted positions, yawning against Roman’s shoulder as he leaned against the fanciful side. Janus looked on fondly at the pair, then back at Logan rubbing small circles on Patton’s back with an absent smile. To his surprise, he found Thomas watching him back.

He arched an eyebrow in silent question, but Thomas only shook his head.

_Thank you_ , he mouthed silently, never wavering from Logan’s side. Janus’ chest gave an odd flutter.

_So that’s what that feels like_ , he thought as he returned it with a slanted smile.

It would take time, and no doubt it would be anything but straight forward, but finally the words clicked into place without the aftertaste of deception.

_They’re going to be okay,_ he thought. _Everything’s going to be alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it folks. I know not everyone got equal screen time in this (please keep in mind we've still got one more chapter to go) but we're finally getting to the comfort part of the hurt/comfort fic I promised in the tags! 
> 
> This chapter didn't go as I expected for a lot of reasons, so I'd love to hear your thoughts if you've got any. Praise or criticism, if you've got a sec to drop me a line I'd really appreciate the feedback because I have...mixed feelings on this one to say the least.


	6. Remus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus and the Light sides recover from their ordeal with some much needed self-care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this fic has been pretty light so far. With that in mind, I really tried to keep this chapter as toned down as possible while keeping it in-character. That being said, we've never really touched on anything relating to violence or physical injury in this fic so I feel compelled to drop a warning just to keep on the safe side.
> 
> TW for descriptions of gore, violent outbursts, and brief references to self-harm. If ANY of this sounds like it might be worrying to you, I've got a more detailed description down in the end notes, as well as a reference for when you should skip ahead. Hopefully none of you need it.

Janus never expected their issues to resolve themselves in the course of an afternoon, but they’d taken the first step. For the first time since his name reveal, the communal spaces of the Light were once again showing signs of life, even if it would take a while for the laughter to return.

The morning after their little heart-to-heart in the living room, the sweet smell of fresh bread and strong coffee enticed Janus from his room. Patton used to bake all the time, or so he’d heard. Around Christmas the smell of cinnamon cookies would reach them even in the Dark, tantalising enough that Janus would don the clothes of another side and creep up to the Light just for a chance to taste them.

(And if he smuggled some back for the other sides? Well, Patton was always more than happy to fill his pockets with them when he showed up in disguise.)

However, when Janus crept into the kitchen to investigate, he found no sign of Patton at all.

Logan didn’t look up from the loaf of bread on the cutting board, not even when Janus let the door swing shut behind him and made his way over to the fridge. Knives were difficult to come by in the Light side, even in the kitchen, but Logan wielded the serrated blade with practiced care.

“Do you mind?” Janus asked, gesturing to the full coffee pot.

“That is what it’s there for.”

“And the bread?”

“I’ve…noticed that Patton often bakes when he notices Virgil or Roman are particularly upset. Even if we do not need to eat, it _does_ seem effective in improving morale.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Janus agreed, and Logan visibly relaxed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m perfectly capable of-“ Logan cut himself off, pausing mid-slice to reconsider his words. Janus pretended not to notice his hesitation, standing with his back to the side as he retrieved two mugs from the cabinet.

“I would…appreciate…your assistance with the next batch,” Logan said, sounding oddly stiff. He didn’t hesitate when Janus pushed the cup of black coffee into his hands, as if the thought that Deceit might have tampered with it never even crossed his mind.

Not that he _would_ , but there’d certainly been ample opportunity for it. The display of trust made Janus’ heart flutter in his chest.

“What did you have in mind? More bread?”

“I think we have enough of that. I was thinking muffins would be acceptable. They are reasonably healthy and appropriate as a breakfast food. Patton has also displayed a liking for them in the past.”

“He’s also fond of blueberries, if I’m not mistaken.”

Logan studied Janus’ face with an inscrutable expression. Whether he found what he was looking for, Janus couldn’t even begin to guess.

“Do you know where we keep the cookware?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. We should have a muffin pan in there. I have a recipe recorded somewhere…”

For the most part, they worked in silence. Janus followed his instructions to the letter and pretended not to notice how it made Logan preen. They didn’t attempt anything fancy, practicality took priority, but the smell was nothing short of heavenly.

“What are we making next?” Janus asked, indulging in one last taste of the sweet batter before he dropped the dishes in the sink and attempted to dust the smear of flour off his sleeve. A flicker of surprise flashed behind Logan’s eyes.

“I…I suppose I do have a recipe for a pecan pie I’ve been meaning to try…”

“That sounds like a _dreadful_ idea,” Janus replied with a teasing smile. “I’ll finish washing up and we can start on it right away.”

Logan shot him a curious look when he slipped off his gloves and folded them on the kitchen counter. He tried to remember the last time he’d taken them off before his name reveal and came up short.

“I was unaware your scales spread beyond your face,” he commented, his tone carefully neutral. Janus flexed the fingers of his left hand.

“For the record, they don’t secrete slime either.”

To his surprise, Logan snorted. “I’ll have to inform Roman that his nickname for you is wholly inaccurate, although I suspect he would have stopped using it regardless.”

His hands itched without his gloves, the absence of that layer of protection leaving him painfully exposed. Logan didn’t mean any harm with his curiosity. It was in his nature, much in the same way caution was in Janus’.

He violently repressed the urge to hide his hands from Logan’s curious gaze. It was irrational. It was senseless. He didn’t _need_ the gloves.

Janus cursed under his breath as his hand slipped on the serrated blade he’d been rinsing.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine, just a scratch.”

“Are you sure? It’s bleeding.”

“It _barely_ nicked me,” Janus scoffed. He held his hand under the tap to wash away the blood dripping off his scale-covered hand, reassured to find only a narrow cut. He’d lost more than a few fingers attempting to silence Remus over the years, but somehow he didn’t think Logan would find it quite as amusing.

“All the same, I’d like to bandage it if I could.”

“You _are_ aware we aren’t actually _real?_ ”

“Even if your injury is unlikely to cause long-term issues, you will still continue to bleed if we don’t attempt to treat it.”

He didn’t feel the need to patronise Janus by pointing out that it still _hurt_.

“Fine,” he sighed, waving his uninjured hand. “Get on with it then.”

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been surprising that Logan would have knowledge of first-aid, but Janus never expected him to be so comfortable with the sight of blood. While milder than he’d expected, it still cut deep enough to make Logan frown in concern when he took a closer look.

“I assure you, I’ve had worse,” Janus said with some amusement. Logan only clicked his tongue and rummaged through the first aid box for gauze.

“If not for my experience with Roman’s rate of healing, I’d say you’d need stitches.”

“Oh?” Janus asked, arching an eyebrow. “Roman gets hurt often, does he?”

“You could say that.”

They stood like that until the bleeding finally began to slow, and only then did it occur to Janus that he’d given no thought to his gloves, even with Logan cradling his injured hand at the wrist.

“You weren’t lying about your scales,” he commented as he set about wrapping the cut with fresh gauze.

“Hmm?”

“They don’t secrete slime.”

Janus looked up to meet his gaze, mismatched eyes meeting solid brown. Though Logan tried to hide it, Janus could see the glimmer of curiosity bleeding through.

“You might as well ask whatever it is you’re wondering.”

Instead of averting his gaze, Logan stood up straighter. “Is it normal for you to be this cold?”

“It’s not unusual.”

“Fascinating,” Logan murmured. “Is it just on the side with scales?”

“I…” Janus paused, flexing the undamaged fingers of his scaled hand again. Despite having finished with bandaging it, Logan didn’t move to let go. “I suppose I… _feel_ it more on the scaled side, but I wouldn’t say I’m much warmer on the right.”

Emboldened by his openness, Logan pressed on. “Do you shed your skin? If so, is it just on the scaled side? And does it shed in pieces like a lizard’s rather than in a single piece as one would typically expect from a serpent?”

“Can’t say I ever have,” he replied delicately. “I’m not sure how that would…work, logistically speaking.”

“Curious. How’s your eyesight?”

“My…?”

“Any noticeable difference in quality of vision between your right eye and your left?”

“I…suppose things look a little… _yellower_ through the left one.”

“Fascinating,” Logan breathed again. “Can you still distinguish colours through that one alone? I can’t say I’ve conducted any sort of extensive research into reptilian biology, but most studies indicate that the majority of snake species have dichromatic vision. Of course, if you’re able to see yellow, you must be equipped to perceive the colour red. While contradictory to all of the studies _I’ve_ read, I suppose it’s just as likely that your perception of colour is influenced more by Thomas’ unconscious assignment of characteristics than by real-world reptilian biology…”

Janus couldn’t help but smile fondly. Even as he stared him right in the eye, Logan seemed to forget he was even there. Lost in a world of his own speculations and caught up in the possibility of finally gaining some answers to his questions.

He muttered observations under his breath. About the pattern and colouration of his scales, about the colour of his eye and whether the slitted pupil meant he’d been derived from a nocturnal species. In truth, Janus suspected his appearance had developed based on looks alone, but he listened to Logan’s theories with interest.

The moment ended when the oven alarm went off, and at once Logan dropped Deceit’s hand.

“I…” he began with uncharacteristic uncertainty, a look of shame crossing his face when he realised how caught up he’d gotten in his own curiosity.

“Thank you,” Janus said before he could try to apologise, grabbing the cloth from the counter and rescuing the tray of muffins while Logan stood mute, staring at him.

“You are…welcome?”

“I’d be interested to hear more, if you have the time.”

“Really?” Logan asked sceptically.

“Of course. But first, is there anything we can help you with, Roman?”

Roman lingered in the doorway, unsure of whether he should intrude. “I can come back later.”

“Nonsense,” Logan replied, smoothing out his tie. “The muffins will be cool enough to eat in a moment.”

“I…muffins?” Roman asked, utterly failing at feigning disinterest.

“And soon,” Janus said as he slipped his gloves back on over the bandages, “there will be pie.”

Roman, to his credit, kept his concerns over the state of their sanity to himself when Logan shoved a bowl into his hands and told him to start weighing the butter for the crust.

Janus never realised how much he missed the sound of arguing. Nothing too heated, of course, but the biting comments and bickering over Roman’s “artistic embellishments” brought a fond smile to his lips. He kept his head low as he mixed, trying not to snort when the insults began to fly. It sounded familiar and comfortable in the warm kitchen, rich with the taste of fresh bread and muffins and pecans on his tongue. If he’d allowed himself a moment’s rest, he may well have drifted off to the sound of their light-hearted ribbing.

Janus poured himself a second cup of coffee and set to work on helping Roman cut the strips of baking parchment while Logan hunted down the baking beans.

Virgil slipped into the room around the time the crust finished baking, shoulders hunched, and his hood once again pulled low over his eyes.

“Good morning, Virgil,” Logan said without looking up.

Roman opened his mouth to comment, but one look at Virgil’s face and the words shrivelled and died on his tongue. He ignored the stools, opting instead to sit on one of the few remaining clean countertops. Janus dropped a muffin on the counter beside him without a word, not once looking up to check if Virgil showed any interest in it.

He wondered if Virgil still got funny about eating in the company of others, or if the Light sides had trained that out of him. He wished the thought didn’t leave the taste of bitter spite behind as he thought back on all the years he’d spent trying to ease Virgil’s paranoia.

The Light sides made more progress with him in two years than Janus had in two decades, and the eyes fixed on his back did nothing to ease that sting.

Virgil watched with thinly veiled interest as Roman vanished the mess of dishes and leftover ingredients with a dramatic flourish and they started again. They spent more time bickering than they did baking, but the peanut butter cookies smelled fantastic. Even with the creative constraints Logan set, Roman couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give them a little extra _flair_. He pouted when Logan denied his request to dye them rainbow colours (“I’ll make sure they’re still edible! You won’t even be able to taste-“ “ _No_.”), but with enough pleading Logic conceded to letting him shape a batch of shortbread.

“You _do_ realise that they will expand in the oven? There’s little point in putting so much effort into the fine detailing,” Logan said impatiently, but Roman only waved him off.

“Au _contraire_ , dear Logic.”

“You cannot simply contradict me without offering any sort of backing to your argument.”

“Can’t I?”

“That isn’t how debating _works_.”

“I wasn’t aware this was a debate,” Roman said with an innocence that didn’t fit his obvious amusement. “Honestly, Logan. Isn’t baking supposed to be _relaxing?_ ”

Logan huffed but gave in and left Roman to his detailing, muttering insults under his breath all the while. Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his echoing laughter when Roman drew angry eyebrows on his shortbread recreation of Logan’s logo in retaliation.

Not once did Virgil ask to participate, but after a while his tongue loosened and some of the tension left his body. He offered suggestions to Roman when the side grew bored of sculpting logos and moved on to dragons and cryptids. When they neared the end of one project, he flipped through Logan’s recipe cards and picked out new ones he knew Patton would like.

Though Anxiety never voiced the request, Janus took care to set the empty bowl he’d used for mixing brownie batter down within arm’s reach of him before he put the batch in the oven. And if Roman missed the chocolate-covered mixing spoon when he vanished the rest of the dirty dishes? Well, no one saw the need to comment.

Patton didn’t make an appearance until after midday, but it only took a glance in his direction to see why. Even with the hood of his cat onesie pulled low over his face, there was no missing his red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks.

Janus considered offering up the coffee pot as he had with Logan, but quickly thought better of it. “Hot chocolate?”

Patton made a sound of agreement in the back of his throat and collapsed into the nearest chair. Based on the grim looks Roman and Logan shared, they didn’t find his unusual behaviour as surprising as Janus did. He retrieved a mug from the cupboard and fought to keep his face neutral when his lip threatened to curl into a grimace. He _hated_ being left in the dark.

Patton accepted the hot chocolate with his sleeves pulled up over his hands like paws and hunched over it to inhale the steam curling from the cup. Without saying a word, Virgil hopped down from the counter and rummaged through one of the cupboards, paying no mind to Janus’ curious glances.

“He gets the brunt of it when Thomas is feeling emotionally compromised,” Logan muttered in his ear under the guise of reaching past him for a dishcloth.

Of course, they’d given Thomas a lot to consider the day before.

Virgil slid a bag of marshmallows down the counter, and Patton jumped when it bumped into his cup as if startling from a daze.

“Morality?” Janus asked cautiously when he looked around in evident confusion. “Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in the kitchen,” he replied, still looking perplexed. “Where’d all the food come from?”

“We may have gotten a little carried away.” Logan adjusted his glasses to observe the baking trays on every countertop. Pies and cakes of every taste and size imaginable, loaves of every variety, batches upon batches of cookies in every shape Roman could convince Logan to let him make.

“Oh…Do you want any help?”

“Why don’t you just enjoy yourself for a while?” Janus suggested, nudging a tray of sugar cookies in his direction. Patton blinked at the heart shaped treats striped in pastel pinks and blues. Roman even took the time to ice little flowers around the borders.

Janus thought Patton might burst into tears right then and there.

“Or perhaps you would prefer something with less sugar if you haven’t eaten yet,” Logan said, shooting Janus a disapproving look. When he reached across Patton to take the tray, however, the side’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

No one moved, but already Janus could see Logan would be more than capable of breaking his fragile grip if he felt the need. The logical side concealed the surprise that flickered across his face behind a careful mask of neutrality, eyes flickering towards Roman before fixing back on Patton.

A mutual understanding passed between Logic and Creativity, contained inside a fleeting look that Janus had no hope of decoding. He looked to Virgil, hoping he might be able to offer some insight, but the side only shook his head and swept his fringe forward over his many eyes.

Either unaware or unwilling to share, Virgil would offer him no answers.

“Are you…?” Patton’s voice wavered and gave out before he could even get through the sentence, but Logan stood up as straight as the hand still gripping his wrist would allow.

“I’m not going anywhere, Patton,” he replied. His face betrayed nothing, but Janus could _taste_ the deception in the air he breathed. It took all of his self-restraint not to inhale and savour the flavour of the half-truth on his tongue because Logic. Never. _Lied_.

Patton stared at Logan with wide eyes, vulnerabilities painted plain as day across his face. Janus tried to imagine what that must be like, but he doubted he could look that honest if he tried. Morality was an open book, but Deceit would sooner liken himself to a set of nesting dolls. Every unmasking only serving to reveal another layer underneath, layers even _he_ couldn’t always see until they lay exposed to the scrutiny of the Light.

Patton searched Logan’s expression for any shred of doubt, but Virgil knew better and instead looked to Janus.

“He’s right,” Roman interrupted. If he harboured any hidden doubts, he squashed them down so violently that not even Janus could pick out the lie. “Nothing is going to happen to Logan. Not if I have any say in it.”

Patton looked back and forth between the pair. Eyes that just a few short moments ago held distant confusion now looked crazed with desperation. His grip on Logan’s wrist tightened, nails digging into the skin, before something broke in his expression and at once he let go.

“I…” he whispered with dawning horror. “I don’t…I don’t know why I-“

He jumped with a start when something slid across the counter to rest against his arm, blinking in confusion at the blueberry muffin now resting in front of him.

Virgil never spoke a word, but the gesture spoke volumes to Patton.

Tears pricked up in the corner of the side’s eyes again, and he cradled the mug of hot chocolate if only for the warmth it offered. Logan wavered with his hand an inch from Patton’s shoulder, torn between the instinct to pull away from the display of raw emotion and the desire to offer comfort to a friend he didn’t have the first idea how to help. Roman bridged the gap where Logan faltered, stepping in so smoothly Janus realised this must be a familiar pattern for the pair.

Virgil stayed close at hand, but Janus doubted he would be up to much more than that. Even in his current state, Patton knew how to avoid his sharp edges and soothe his fraying nerves. Together they went through many more mugs of hot chocolate, each heaped with more marshmallows than Janus could stand the sight of.

Logan soon grew twitchy without a task to occupy him, though he would never admit it. There were only so many times he could adjust his glasses and straighten his tie before he ran out of justifications. But, to Janus’ surprise, Roman offered a solution in the form of a chess board. Logan’s eyes fixed on it the moment it appeared in his hand, eyes widening a fraction as if struggling to process what he was seeing.

It looked too old and shabby to be a new creation. The paint worn and flaking, and the edges decorated with so many chips and dents that it wouldn’t have surprised Janus in the slightest if Roman told him they’d once hurled it from a moving car.

“You never want to play chess,” Logan said. His voice never wavered, but his eyes betrayed his suspicion.

“Well, if you’d rather we do something else-“

“That won’t be necessary,” Logan said quickly, his gaze never once leaving the board, even as they moved into the living room. “You will be playing white, I assume?”

The game didn’t last long, but Roman didn’t let his quick defeat deter him. Their rematch dragged out a little longer but ended just the same. Janus watched with interest as the sides battled it out again, and again, and again. Each attempt ending the same way, only for Roman to reset the board with a renewed determination. Based on Patton’s fond smiles and the way Virgil rolled his eyes every time Roman vowed to beat Logic in the next round, Janus would guess this must be a tradition.

Well, Deceit never put much stock in tradition.

“What do you say you take a break for a while?” he suggested. At the sound of his voice, Virgil raised his head in interest. It was a tone he knew all too well from their time in the Dark, but he decided they should be safe enough from the side lines to watch the chaos unfold.

“I’ll get him one of these days!”

“I’m sure,” Janus lied. “But I wonder if you might be willing to give someone else a turn?”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Are you familiar with the rules?”

“You could say that.”

Roman looked back and forth between the two of them as he rose from his seat, a curious smile twisting his lips. “In that case, by all means.”

Janus sat down at the table opposite Logan, never once breaking eye contact as he considered his new opponent. “I do have one request, if I may.”

“By all means.”

In one swift motion, Janus rotated the chess board to flip their positions. “I prefer to play black.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifted as he made the opening move. Regardless, they were in for an interesting game.

Janus leaned on his gloved hands, shuffling pieces around the board without any semblance of strategy while he watched Logan’s smugness bleed through the neutral exterior. Too many years of playing against Roman had inflated his ego, it seemed.

“Check,” Janus said, sounding almost bored. It was worth tipping his hand just to see Logan’s face light up when he realised victory might not be so certain.

He won in the end, but only just. Logan was nothing short of gleeful when Janus proposed a rematch.

Janus liked to play it cautious, but more than that, he liked to take Logan off-guard. He didn’t take the easy bait that Roman fell for time and time again, but sometimes he allowed himself to fall into a trap for the sake of keeping Logan uncertain. Seeing his brow furrow in confusion as he tried to puzzle out Janus’ strategy more than made up for the pieces he sacrificed in the process.

Janus didn’t win until their third match when he grew bored of Logan’s bemusement and began to get… _creative_ with the rules. Logan fumed when he realised the side must have cheated, but without being able to pinpoint exactly how and when, he found himself at a loss for how to prove it.

Their games became much more interesting after that.

They played well into the evening, long after the other sides switched their focus to a movie. Some matches were won fairly, others after taking significant liberties with the rules, but Logan never once straightened his tie at the table, and Janus considered that a victory all of its own.

“Well,” Logan said when at last they decided to call it quits. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected an honest match from you…but you’re a worthier opponent than Roman, at least.”

“Hey!” the creative side protested around a mouthful of popcorn, his eyes never leaving the screen. Logan clucked his tongue in disapproval but bit back his criticisms over their choice of film. _Tangled_ wouldn’t have been Deceit’s first choice, but the others certainly seemed to be enjoying it.

“Unlike some sides,” Logan said, just loud enough to be heard over the singing. “I intend to get to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight.”

“Yes, that’s probably for the best,” Janus murmured, his eyes already wandering back to the screen. “I think I’ll follow suit.”

Logan sank out with a look of approval, but Deceit made no move to bow out himself. Instead, he looked to where Virgil was perched on the back of the couch.

“Would you be…opposed to me joining you for a while?” Janus asked. He examined the fingers of his gloves as if already losing interest in their reply, nothing lost if they declined.

He hoped they wouldn’t.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Tangled fan.”

“Roman,” Patton warned.

“What? I just meant that it’s a perfectly wholesome modern classic! Doesn’t really seem like your style, De- Janus.”

“On the contrary, I _don’t_ consider Mother Gothel’s opening number to be one of the best villain songs in Disney’s catalogue.”

“Of _course_ you’d say that.”

“And besides, I think there are some very positive messages to be taken from this story.”

Patton took a long sip from his cup, pretending not to hear a thing while Roman spluttered. “What on _Earth_ could you _possibly_ take away from a movie about a young woman escaping her abusive mother to see the wonders of the world that isn’t positive?”

“Roman,” Janus replied, pressing a hand to his chest and feigning offence. “You _wound_ me. I only meant that Rider’s character shows that anyone, no matter their background, has the potential to turn their life around and climb the unbalanced rungs of the social ladder.”

Roman stared at him in stunned silence until he could recover his words. “Well I…that’s actually very touching. I-“

“Provided you seduce the right people, of course.”

Patton choked on his hot chocolate.

“ _Or steal the right crown_ ,” Virgil muttered under his breath.

“They were in _love!_ ” Roman protested over the sound of Patton’s coughing fit.

“Yes, a twenty-six year old con artist marrying an eighteen year old heiress who’s never met another man in her life. Why, put like that they _do_ sound the ideal couple, don’t they?”

It was worth suffering Roman’s shrieks of protest to hear Virgil’s stifled laughter.

In spite of what he’d said to Logan, Janus didn’t sleep that night. Not even after the other sides drifted off one by one.

Patton made it to the end of Tangled, but all the crying tired him out and he crashed halfway through Mulan. Roman held out longer, holding a running commentary throughout Brave but ran out of steam when they reached Moana. He fought every step of the way to keep his eyes open, mouthing along to the musical numbers when he ran out of energy to sing. Though Roman had been the one to suggest it, neither Virgil nor Janus made any move to switch it off when he finally drifted off.

They squabbled over what to watch next in a mixture of hissed whispers and half-remembered sign, though at this point their vocabulary was mostly comprised of elaborate insults. It took a lot of coaxing to dissuade Virgil from _Coraline_ , but eventually Janus managed to steer him towards the marginally less nightmare inducing _Corpse Bride_. All around, a happy compromise.

Janus almost didn’t notice when Virgil drifted off to sleep. The side moved down from his perch on the back of the chair to slump down into the couch cushions, leaning into Janus as they were wedged between Patton and Roman.

It was a strange thing to see the side’s breathing even out, though the strain never left his face even in sleep. Of all the sides to let their guard down, he never would have imagined even a year ago that Virgil would allow himself to slip into unconsciousness out in the open. Never mind falling asleep with his head resting in the crook of Deceit’s arm.

“Still full of surprises,” Janus murmured, trying not to jostle him as he removed his capelet to drape over the sleeping side. It wouldn’t do much to keep him warm, but even in his sleep Virgil’s fingers curled around the silky fabric.

Janus looked back to Roman, spread out like a starfish and snoring softly, though no doubt the side would deny it when he woke. Patton’s brow furrowed in response to something in his dream, and with the utmost care, Janus removed his glasses from his face.

With nothing else to occupy him and the TV remote in reach, Janus perused the Light side’s film collection. Primarily Disney, as he’d predicted, with a few documentaries that no doubt belonged to Logan. To Janus’ immense disappointment, further investigation mostly turned up nature films and few reviews of historical architecture. Nothing he would normally consider watching…although…

Janus glanced back at the other sides, still sound asleep, and cautiously selected a series on the hidden lives of reptilians. It didn’t take long for his eyelids to grow heavy, but he found more success in fighting off sleep than his fellow sides had, if only for the knowledge of how vulnerable they would all be.

No, better he stay up and keep watch. Just for the first little while, at least.

He didn’t let the bags under his human eye show the next morning at breakfast, being mindful not to give them any reason to assume something was amiss. The next few days passed in a flurry of board games and baked goods. Chess with Logan and Disney movies (which often led to Disney debates) with Roman. He helped Patton paint Virgil’s nails, and for a time it kept him from curling them into fists that punctured the soft skin of his palms.

It was far from perfect, but it was a start.

After spending days in the Light without respite, Janus could feel the pressure building behind his eyes. He needed away from the bright lights that burned even through closed eyelids, and the sickly sweet half-truths that went hand-in-hand with their forced optimism. He needed a _break_ , and even he couldn’t deny it forever.

He waited for the right moment. When the exhaustion of Virgil’s constant state of panic caught up with him, and Patton shifted from weepy to lethargic. Logan and Roman looked up from their board game in surprise when Janus asked to excuse himself, but neither offered up any protest.

The heat hit him the moment he rose up, digging in deep to erase the dull ache of the cold from his joints. Like stepping into a warm bath at the end of a long day, the room soothed the throbbing in his head and the tension he carried in his shoulders. He sighed in relief, dragging out the breath as he savoured the familiar comfort of being in his own territory again.

He’d fought tooth and nail for his right to stand in the Light, but even Deceit couldn’t stay in neutral territory indefinitely.

_Besides_ , he thought, a sly grin creeping over his face. _The door will still be open to me when I return._

No more waiting for an opening to ride the summons of another side. No more disguising himself and biting his tongue, just open and honest debate.

Well, maybe not _completely_ honest.

He hung his hat on the hook by the door and collapsed on the bed fully clothed. Thomas wouldn’t be up for hours yet, plenty of time to catch up on sleep before he returned to the Light. Surely the other sides could stay out of trouble that long, at least?

Anywhere else in the Mindscape, he might have doubted it, but it was all too easy to convince himself of false assurances from the safety of his room. His eyelids fluttered closed, breathing evening out as he slipped off into-

_Thud._

Janus bit back a hiss of irritation.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The sound wasn’t quite right for a knock, but he knew he had to check to be sure. Even shaking from exhaustion, Janus never allowed his annoyance to get the better of him. He hauled himself to his feet and crept across the room to press his ear to the door.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

When the sound came again, he could tell for sure this time it wasn’t coming from the hall. Distant, but still well within the confines of the Dark.

If Remus had let one of his _pets_ wander in from the Imagination again-

Janus opened the door a crack, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he’d found the source of the noise. The hall was empty as he’d suspected, but it was also… _red_.

Any trace of fatigue drained away as Janus pulled open the door a little wider, pressing his lips tightly together to keep out the awful stench. Everything was red. Not just the walls, but the floor and ceiling too, every inch _drenched_ in gore and viscera. He should have called out to Remus then, thrown open the door and charged into the hall, but he could hardly think through the rancid odour clouding his senses.

Creativity’s darker half would often leave gifts at the door for Janus to find, seemingly without any rhyme or reason. Sometimes he would leave crude sculptures and paintings which were as impressive as they were disturbing. Gifts he could understand, if not appreciate. Other times his intentions were…less apparent. Odd jars of foul smelling liquids that Janus tried not to look at too closely, burned and smouldering remains of what he could only assume had once been food, or on one _very_ memorable occasion, Remus’ own severed hand set in candle wax.

_Like a stray cat_ , Janus reasoned as he plucked his hat from the stand and stepped out into the blood-soaked hallway. In truth, he’d found his fair share of disembowelled birds outside his door, as well.

Gifts, yes, but the scene of a slaughter was a first.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Janus shut the door firmly behind him, pausing to trace the deep grooves in the wood that hadn’t been there when he left. He swallowed back the impulse to gag when something _squished_ beneath his shoes, forcing himself to keep moving in spite of his…discomfort. Finding Remus took priority now.

Venturing deeper into the Dark did nothing to ease his concerns, dim lights failing to illuminate the solid shapes in the endless gore. Things that wriggled and squirmed as Deceit stepped past, but the years had made him wise enough to look away before the horrors could burn their way into his brain.

He kept moving. One foot after the other. Ignoring the rats that tore into one another over scraps, rolling and squealing in the aging blood as they sank their tiny teeth into one another’s flesh. Ignored the sound of _chewing_ when he passed something vaguely humanoid buried in the gore and the viscous chunks floating in the pools of blood.

Everything was fine.

Everything _had_ to be fine.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The Dark side twisted and stretched, a labyrinth of hallways and endless rooms, all packed and compressed to fit the confines of a physical form. He followed the source of the noise though it echoed strangely in the halls, trusting the Mindscape to present the path he needed to take.

The scene changed when he found the stairs. Swirls of aging blood decorating the walls like a child’s attempt at finger painting before it tapered off into irregular streaks. Perhaps Remus grew bored of painting the walls, but a bored Remus was _never_ a good thing.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Janus took care on the narrowing stairway, a familiar balancing acts of staying close to the edges where the wood didn’t creak without touching the sticky walls. He checked for exposed nails just in case Remus decided to flip the boards again, and a good thing too or else he would have missed the thick tar on the third step down. Then again, Janus would most likely have to burn these shoes anyway.

Flies congregated around the foot of the stairs in thick, buzzing clouds. Knowing Remus, they no doubt had the ability to bite, but they parted for him when he reached the bottom step and he passed without incident. Aside from the damp patches bleeding through the peeling wallpaper, he was surprised to find the living room relatively unharmed by the side’s…creative spree.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“Remus?” Janus called. “Are you in here?”

He kept his voice soft and inviting, but the ‘S’ lingered on his tongue longer than it should have. A quick glance around the room ruled out most of the obvious locations, but he knew better than to expect the obvious with Remus.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Every step sounded deafening on the wooden floorboards with only the buzzing of the flies to break the silence, announcing his location as he crossed the room to the TV. Peering over it, his breath hitched in his throat.

“Oh, Remus.”

The side never looked at him, glassy eyes unfocused as he sat huddled on the floor. The bags beneath his eyes blended with the mess of eyeshadow, the rats-nest masquerading as his hair making him look positively wild. His lips glistened, red and raw where he’d chewed right through the skin.

Muttering something under his breath, he slammed his head against the wall behind him thrice in quick succession. _Thud. Thud. Thud_. Never flinching from the pain, nor even seeming to notice when fresh crimson trickled down the wall behind his ear.

“Remus,” Janus said firmly, “ _stop_ it.”

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

“ _Remus!_ ”

He should have known better, but in a desperate attempt to keep him from doing any more damage, he shoved all reasoning aside and reached out to the unresponsive side.

Big mistake.

He snatched his hand out of the way to avoid the gnashing teeth but moved too slow to avoid the TV when Remus threw himself forward. Janus cursed as the flatscreen toppled into him, hand shooting up to protect his eyes when broken, bloodied fingernails scrabbled at his face. He hissed and spat but sank his teeth into his lip to keep from lashing out, even as blunt nails raked his face and left great welts across his human skin. The scales fared better under the assault, but Remus wasn’t cognisant enough to realise. He lashed out indiscriminately, screeching and fighting as if his very life depended on his ability to win. Empty eyes now blazed green with desperate fury, and words could not express how thankful Janus was that they’d been out of reach of his morning star.

When his focus shifted from his face and eyes to his throat, Janus snapped. New arms manifested, and with a twist of his wrist, Remus’ hand flew up to cover his own gnashing teeth. The pain never registered when he sank them into his own skin, too enraged at the prospect of being restrained to care. He thrashed and kicked as Janus’ many arms pushed him back, oblivious to the soothing words spilling off his tongue.

Janus, at his core, represented self-preservation, but he lacked Virgil’s impulse to flee at the first opening. Instead, he stayed. Restraining Remus while he screamed himself hoarse, even as he bent awkward to claw at the fingers encircling his wrist.

Eventually fury gave way to fatigue, the continuous attacks growing sloppy as he tried and failed to break free of Janus’ hold.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, running a hand through the wild tangles of Remus’ hair without a care for the streaks of black it left behind on his gloves. “Nothing can hurt you now. You’re safe. You’re real. I’m here. You’re safe, now. I’m _here_. I-”

At last the side fell limp, but Janus would have preferred the anger to his glassy eyed stare. Dazed and disinterested, empty of all the things that made him _Remus_. He loosened his grip on the side’s wrist, but either he didn’t notice or couldn’t bring himself to care. For all that Deceit poured into his words, Remus didn’t even seem to hear them.

When sweet words failed him, Janus began to sing.

_“Come little children, I’ll show thee the way,_ ” he began, reaching for lyrics he’d had no need to repeat since Virgil left them alone in the dark. “ _Into a land of enchantment_.”

A strange expression twisted Remus’ features, recognition flashing through his eyes.

“ _Come little children, I’ll show thee the way. Through all the pain and sorrows-_ “

At once Remus recoiled from Deceit, but without any sign of the burning rage that had fuelled him just a moment before. Confusion filled his wide green eyes, followed by dawning horror as tears began to well.

“ _Weep not poor children, life is this way._ ”

He shook as if plunged with icy water, mouthing behind the hand that silenced him. At once Janus gestured with his uppermost right arm to release his hold on the side and shuffled back to give him space.

“ _Murdering beauty and passions._ ”

Instead of trying to put distance between them, Remus reached out to snag his sleeve with his newly liberated hand.

“Dee-“

Janus gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head. It did nothing to ease the look of devastation on Remus’ face.

“ _Hush now, dear children. It must be this way._ ”

The side curled in on himself, twitching and spasming like a dying spider and still his grip on Janus’ sleeve never faltered.

“ _Too weary of life and deceptions_.”

Remus couldn’t muster up the energy to sob, or even to wipe away the tears that trickled from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re real,” he murmured when Deceit rose his gloved fingers to wipe his face. A moment ago he’d fought to end his life, but he surrendered to the touch without hesitation. Placing his trust in Deceit’s many hands, never stopping to ask whether the side had earned it.

Remus made a sound of protest when the singing stopped, and Janus didn’t have the heart to deny him. Even if it meant swallowing back his many questions and concerns a while longer.

“ _Rest now my children, for soon we’ll away._ ”

How long had he been like this? Trapped in the Dark with only his thoughts to keep him company while Janus basked in the spotlight upstairs?

Time had never been his strong suit, and without sleep he had no real way of separating one day from the next. How many breakfasts with Patton? How many afternoon singalongs with Roman, or evening chess matches with Logan? How many nights of staying up to make fun of those God awful ghost hunting shows Virgil enjoyed while Remus unravelled, out of sight and out of mind. A week? Longer?

“ _Into the calm and the quiet._ ”

The side allowed Janus to check the back of his head, so long as the music didn’t stop. Remus couldn’t be hurt, not really, but Janus still summoned a compress to stem the flow of blood when his gloved fingers came back red.

With another hand, he coaxed Remus into holding out his fingers flat and clucked his tongue at the state of them. The side offered no protest when he summoned a pair of tweezers and began the painstaking process of removing the splinters from underneath his cracked and broken nails.

Remus never flinched, not even when Janus set his bent index finger with a splint. He rocked gently to the sound of the music, oblivious when Janus ran out of lyrics and began to hum to him instead.

Remus held on with his left hand when Janus finished picking out the splinters, the other still gripping his sleeve, but Deceit had more than enough to spare. He stitched the cut above Remus’ eyebrow, as well as the laceration on the back of his head once the bleeding slowed. He summoned ice for the most noticeable bruises, though he knew there would be more he couldn’t see.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked softly. Remus’ eyes flickered up to meet his, but he seemed to have difficulty keeping them there.

He said nothing. Janus hummed.

“You’re in the living room,” he said, bandaging his cut and broken fingers with soft gauze. “You’re injured, but I’m almost finished bandaging you up. We’re alone, you and I. There’s no one else here.”

The truths left a bad taste in his mouth, but backwards talk would only make matters worse. Janus sighed when Remus looked up at him in confusion.

“The sky is blue,” he continued. “You’re wearing green, and I am wearing yellow. My name is Janus, and I represent Thomas’ capacity for deception. Your name is Remus, and you represent Thomas’ creativity. You are alive. You are injured, but you will get _better_.”

Remus nodded numbly, straining to see through the fog clouding his senses. His eyes wandered to the human half of Janus’ face and the bruises no doubt blossoming there. “You’re hurt too.”

Janus hesitated. “Yes.”

“I did that,” he said in a small voice, but already he didn’t sound so sure.

“There will be time to worry about that later. Right now, we’re focusing on your own recovery.”

“But I _hurt_ you.”

“And I said we’re not focusing on that part.”

Janus tied off the gauze and admired his handiwork. “There, how about that? Now all _you_ have to do is keep it clean while you heal.”

“J- Deceit, I-“

“I won’t hear any apologies,” Janus said sharply, and Remus’ words died on his tongue. “If I wanted excuses and heartfelt speeches, I’d still be upstairs. What I _want_ is for you to rest and not pick at your stitches while you’re still healing. Do I make myself clear?”

The side nodded.

“Good. Now, would you like to go back to your room?”

A dark look flashed across Remus’ face, and at once Janus shifted direction to smooth it over. “Then again, the couch might be easier given your current state. Would you like a hand getting to your feet?”

Remus didn’t reply, but neither did he protest when Deceit gathered him up in his many arms. The side settled among the lumpy couch cushions, eyelids already growing heavy.

“Dee-Dee?” he asked, his words slurring as he fought the urge to drift off.

“Yes, Remus?”

“Will you stay?”

Janus didn’t miss the way his hands shook, still clinging to the capelet as though afraid Deceit might slip through his fingers if he let him out of his sight.

“Of course,” he replied, and at once the last of the side’s will to fight drained away. “I’ll keep watch while you recover.”

“Thank you,” Remus murmured, and Janus swore he caught a glimmer of light in the depths of his dull green eyes. “For everything.”

_That’s what family is for_ , he wanted to say, but then where would that leave Roman?

“It’s my job,” he said instead, and Remus pushed through his exhaustion to offer him a smile. “Now go to _sleep_ , Remus.”

“Hey, Jan?”

“ _Sleep_.”

“Before I do,” he said shyly. “Could you…Would you mind if you…?”

Janus sighed.

“ _Trust in me, just in me. Shut your eyes. Trussst in me._ ”

Remus’ finally gave in, allowing his eyes to slip shut. When Janus was sure it wouldn’t disturb him, he summoned a blanket from his room. The yellow clashed with Remus’ green, but the side moved to bury his face in the soft fabric.

“ _You can sleep, safe and sound,”_ he sang long after the side had drifted off to sleep. “ _Knowing I_ a _m around._ ”

_I almost betrayed you, Remus, but now I give you my word. If there is an honest bone in my body, I will_ never _leave you trapped down here again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Remus does repeatedly hit his head off a wall and broke several of his fingernails clawing at Janus' door. He also makes a lunge for Janus before he realises he's actually real and scratches his face before going for his throat. Janus is more than capable of holding his own, and none of his injuries are described in any great detail (although they will be referenced in the next chapter).  
> ^  
> If any of this would make you uncomfortable to read, I recommend you skip to the end after the first "Thud". The last few paragraphs still give a decent sense of Deceit's mindset following the episode. Please comment if you feel there's anything else I should add. Even though I tried to tone it down as much as I could, I recognise some of you probably weren't expecting the fic to take this direction.
> 
> All that being said, I hope you all enjoyed! It took spraining my ankle to make me actually sit down and finish this. I did promise before that there would be only one more chapter, but this is already easily our longest chapter yet and I've barely scratched the surface of what I had planned for it.
> 
> I'm REALLY eager to hear any thoughts you might have had on this (positive or critical, I'll take any feedback you're willing to offer). I'm not all that happy with some of the earlier chapters, but I feel like I'm returning more to my usual quality of writing with this one? Maybe you feel completely different and prefer the earlier ones! Either way, I'll probably do minor edits on the earlier chapters at some point. I promise not to change anything major, just error-checking. I have no idea where to find a beta for a work in this fandom so I know I've probably missed a lot of mistakes.
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling. Stay safe everybody!


	7. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologise for this chapter being...what? A month late with this? But honestly time lost all meaning somewhere around chapter 3. Enjoy, folks!

In the days that followed, Janus refused to let Remus out of his sight. Too exhausted and starved of contact to refuse, Remus resigned himself to being coddled by the very side he’d tried to kill.

A shadow of regret darkened his face every time he set eyes on the mess of scratches that would no doubt leave a scar, but he protested any attempt Deceit made to disguise them. After an extensive debate, he acquiesced to the higher collar which hid the bruises around his throat, but he drew the line at makeup to smooth out the angry red lines.

“I should feel guilty,” he said stubbornly, tracing the healing gouges in the skin. “I know you’re trying to protect me, Dee-Dee, but I don’t deserve it this time.”

“Respectfully, I have to disagree.”

“But-“

“We can discuss this when you’re better,” Janus cut in, and Remus huffed but gave in to his transparent efforts to skip past the unpleasantries. They spent days in the living room watching all the trashy horror movies Janus could get his hands on. He rolled his eyes at the nonsensical violence, but he tolerated it for Remus’ occasional snicker.

When his lucid spells lengthened, Janus switched out some of the mindless gore for documentaries. Deep sea explorations describing creatures with defence mechanisms that could make Logic squirm, narratives on ancient gods with family trees so interwoven even Janus couldn’t keep track of their relations.

He caught Remus’ wrist every time the side tried to scratch his forgotten stitches. He reminded the side not to mess with his bandages every time he absently began to pick at the medical tape.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

Janus smiled and offered up false reassurances whenever Remus asked if he was taking care of himself, and the side slipped in and out of awareness too often to keep track of his sleep schedule. There were more important things than Janus’ own comfort, and keeping Remus grounded while he recovered _had_ to take priority.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t factored the Light sides into his equations. Deceit was used to keeping an ear out for stray mentions. White lies and fleeting thoughts, any excuse to twist an argument to his advantage. Being outright called on wasn’t something he had much experience with.

He shifted at the uncomfortable twist his insides gave when the requests for his presence grew more insistent. How did Virgil _stand_ it?

“You okay there, Dee?” Remus asked around a mouthful of popcorn kernels. Janus winced at the sound they made when he bit down on them, the sickening _crunch_ indistinguishable from the cracking of teeth (and didn’t _that_ paint a pretty picture).

“Fine,” he lied. He couldn’t leave, not yet. The Light sides would just have to handle themselves a while longer.

“You’re squirming,” Remus commented, waggling his eyebrows, and shimmying in his seat to demonstrate. His costume jingled with the movement.

Gritting his teeth, Janus shoved down the urge to answer the call to the Light and buried it deep until he could almost convince himself it wasn’t there at all. “It will pass.”

“You _are_ allowed to leave, you know. I know babysitting me like this must be screwing up all kinds of schemes. Say, where do you think the term _babysitting_ came from, anyway? Baby. Sitting. I wonder what happens when you-“

“I’m not babysitting you, Remus,” Janus interrupted, massaging his temples and doing his best to ignore another flareup. “The Light sides have finally admitted their issues to one another, my work is done. This is just…a return to the natural order of things.”

“Uh huh,” Remus said, crunching down on another handful of kernels while Janus tried not to think about his teeth breaking with every bite. “Have you told _them_ that?”

“They’ll get the message.” Another sharp tug at his insides. “Eventually.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask about the whole ‘helping them come to terms with their issues thing’. Isn’t that…kind of the _opposite_ of what you normally do?”

Janus blinked.

“I mean, encouraging Thomas to deny his issues rather than face them is…” Remus made a lazy gesture to his own body, sprawled out as he was on the couch. Deceit’s expression darkened.

“Even I’m not narcissistic enough to believe my aspect is the _only_ way to solve a problem. Self-preservation sometimes means making sacrifices for our long-term survival,” he replied, his voice giving away no more than his face, now void of any hint of emotion. “I let _you_ out, didn’t I?”

“Because you were mad at our resident bundle of sunshine.”

Janus didn’t reply.

Remus shot him knowing looks every time he tried to hide a wince or shifted awkwardly in place. Focusing on the documentary proved impossible, the droning voice only serving to grate on his fraying nerves. He drew the blanket closer around his shoulders, but it could only do so much to alleviate the chill when he lacked the body heat to insulate in the first place.

_Just a little while longer, a few more days and I’ll retire to my room._ Remus wouldn’t mind when he could drop in as he pleased, but Janus refused to expose him to its influence until he’d fully recovered. It wasn’t a place well-suited to sides struggling with their grip on reality.

He fell into a rhythm. Push and pull, back and forth, request decline. Uncomfortable, but manageable…Until they grew impatient with asking nicely.

A feeling gripped him, like a hand reached down his throat to seize a fistful of his insides and _wrenched_ \- More than a whisper of his name, or even an invitation. This was a _summons_ , and it caught Janus entirely off-guard.

He gasped, remembering just in time to throw up a hasty glamour before the couch vanished out from under him and he hurtled…upwards? Downwards? Flying or falling, the line blurred without a sense of direction to ground him The room fell away in a sickening flurry, with Remus’ knowing smile being the last to go before even that was torn away in the swirl of colour. It must have only lasted a few seconds before his feet hit solid ground, but unprepared for the landing, he staggered.

He shouldn’t have allowed his composure to break down, but with his head still spinning from the unexpected summons and nausea rising in his stomach, he couldn’t bite back the snarl in his throat. A hand closed around his arm, and his slitted snake eye burned bright as he snapped back with sharpened canines.

The side snatched their hand back (maybe they had some sense after all), and Janus squeezed his eyes shut, willing the spinning to stop.

“ _I told you not to!_ ”

Janus would recognise the distorted echoes of an angry Anxiety anywhere.

“How was I supposed to know he’d freak out!” Roman protested.

“ _Maybe if you used your **brain** for a change. You must have one rattling around in that giant head of yours._”

“Well maybe if _you_ —”

“This fighting isn’t helping!” Janus flinched at how close the voice sounded. Too emotive to be Logan, Patton then?

“I concur. If anything, your feuding is likely causing Janus even _more_ distress.”

At once, Deceit’s eyes snapped open.

“I _do_ appreciate you defending me, Logic, but I assure you it’s quite unnecessary.”

With a snap of his fingers, he vanished the blanket around his shoulders and summoned his hat and capelet from his room. Virgil narrowed his eyes when he scrubbed his face as an excuse to double check his hastily conjured disguise. Given how none of them had commented on his appearance, he could only assume he’d managed to throw together a passable cover of his own face, sans the injuries.

_What I wouldn’t give for a mirror right now_ , he thought as he adjusted his gloves and smoothed out his collar. He’d been wearing most of his costume already, but in the Darkness he’d allowed his guard to drop.

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

“I assume you had a reason for dragging me up here?”

The Light sides only stared.

“Janus,” Patton said gently. “We were _worried_ about you.”

Janus blinked.

“You said you were tired and wanted to return to your room to rest a while,” Logan reminded him when it became clear he didn’t follow.

“And? Is that so wrong?”

“Not at all, except that you said it four days ago and none of us have heard from you since.”

Ah. _That_.

“ _I told them not to push you_ ,” Virgil muttered, drawing his legs closer to his chest as he sat huddled on the stairs.

“Well _I’m_ sorry, Mr Doom and Gloom. Need I remind you that the last time a side refused to answer our calls, it was when _you_ decided to duck out?”

“Is everything alright, kiddo?” Patton asked, blocking out their bickering as if it were commonplace enough to be reduced to white noise. For all Janus knew, it was.

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m _not_ sorry if I worried you all, I took the opportunity to catch up on things. I’m afraid my workload has grown rather more than I’d expected in my absence.”

Roman huffed. “Well, warn a side next time.”

“ _You_ weren’t worried about me, were you, dear?” Janus asked, quirking an eyebrow when the side spluttered. “Honestly, you _do_ fret like this when Logan slips out. I _don’t_ have other responsibilities, you know.”

Patton and Logan shared a look, though not the one of disapproval Janus might have expected. Understanding passed between them, an agreement Janus couldn’t even begin to decipher. It left him with the uncomfortable sense he was missing something.

He supposed that’s what he got for ignoring their calls.

“Well…I suppose, while we’re on the subject of…” Patton blinked. “Actually, I’m not sure where I’m going with this.”

Logan barely suppressed an eyeroll. “I think Patton means is that we wanted to propose something that might help to figuratively bridge the figurative gap between your obligations in the Dark and Light.”

“Oh? You mean _didn’t_ call me purely out of concern for my wellbeing?”

“That was part of it-“

“A big part!”

“-but it did, in fact, coincide with our discussion about your changing role in Thomas’ life.”

Janus raised an eyebrow.

“Not that we meant to talk about you behind your back or anything!” Roman was quick to add. “It’s just…well, with you being out of reach and all that…”

“It’s alright, Roman,” he said with some amusement. “I’m the last side to take offence at you scheming in my absence.”

“ _I wouldn’t call it scheming_ ,” Virgil muttered, and Janus’ sharp smile grew wider.

“We simply meant that, given your recent redemption arc, we’ve been considering re-negotiating certain boundaries in the Mindscape.”

“My…redemption…?”

“ _You make it sound like we’re setting up a custodial agreement_.”

“What the Teach is _trying_ to say is…well…we were thinking that, seeing as how you _did_ help us out-“

“We want to give you the keys to the Light side!” Patton squealed, unable to hold back any longer.

Oh. _Oh._

“The _figurative_ keys,” Logan corrected, adjusting his glasses. “Obviously you already have some degree of access to the communal living space. If anything, this is more of a formality—”

“ _But an important one_ ,” Virgil said firmly, ducking his head when Janus turned to face him and hiding behind his thick fringe. “ _I…know we don’t always exactly see eye to eye on things…but I was wrong to shut you out before. To tell **Thomas** to shut you out. You’ve got just as much right to be here as I do._”

For once, Janus was at a loss for words. Patton smiled, wide and welcoming and a strange warmth enveloped Janus’ chest.

“We all agreed. You’ve more than earned our trust these past few weeks, kiddo.”

“You mean you…”

_Want me around? Are willing to give me_ open access _to the Light?_

Guiding Thomas in person rather than plucking at strings from the shadows, resolving dilemmas with structured arguments rather than whispering solutions only to be dismissed and ignored. Being valued, being _listened_ to.

Everything he’d ever dreamed of, and here they were offering it to him on a silver platter. Best of all, he’d _earned_ it. He was being pulled into the spotlight without having to steal it…and they were happy to share it with him.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said honestly.

“You don’t have to say anything, Janus.” Patton grinned, brilliant and bright. At once, Janus was reminded of the strange glow that illuminated Morality’s room, as though the very walls emanated sunshine. The sickly sweet nostalgia flavouring the air should have repulsed him, but it felt warm and welcoming and _safe_.

“Just think of all the fun we’ll have once you move in!”

Deceit’s expression closed off.

“Move in?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral even as an icy chill crept up his spine.

“I suspect it will only be a matter of time. Virgil’s room shifted location almost immediately after he was accepted by Thomas and integrated into our inner circle.”

Oh yes, Janus remembered that well. The day he awoke to Remus howling bloody murder as he clawed at a sealed door that had been reduced to little more than a painted wall. The posters remained fixed to the washed out wood, strings of cobwebs hanging severed and limp, but all they had to do was touch the deathly cold doorknob to _know_.

Anxiety’s room had closed for business, regardless of how it may appear on the outside. Over the course of months, it degraded and decayed until only a withered impression in the wall remained, a foul scar in the fabric of the Dark. A mocking reminder of all they’d lost.

“No.”

The sides stared.

“No?” Roman repeated with a frown.

“I’m…not entirely sure I understand. Would you mind clarifying exactly what you mean by—”

“You misunderstood me, Logic,” Deceit replied coldly. “My room will not be moving to the Light.”

“Well, of course it will, silly!” Patton tried to inject some of his usual enthusiasm into his words, but the attempt fell flat. “You’re…you’re one of _us_ now.”

“Am I? I _definitely_ remember agreeing to that.”

Virgil’s hands curled into fists where he gripped the fabric of his hoodie. “ _If this is about me leaving_ —”

“This has nothing to do with you, Virgil,” he replied, a flicker of regret flashing behind his eyes before his expression smoothed out. “It’s a simple misunderstanding, nothing more. I made the choice to reveal myself to Thomas as a show of trust, but I have no intention of changing my role in Thomas’ life.”

“But…You’re a _Dark_ side,” Patton said uneasily. “Doesn’t that make you…?”

“Evil?” Deceit suggested, examining his gloved fingers as if already losing interest in Patton’s reply.

“No! Gosh, kiddo, I didn’t mean that at all! It’s just that…Well…”

“He has a point.”

Janus raised an eyebrow, and Roman’s confidence faltered. “Well, it’s just that Dark sides are… _Dark_.”

“You’re oversimplifying,” Logan said. The comment may have been directed at Roman, but his eyes remained fixed on Janus. “The Dark sides represent aspects which Thomas prefers not to consider too closely. They operate from the figurative shadows of the Mindscape, but they aren’t an _inherently_ negative influence. Anxiety has proven as much.”

At the mention of the side, Janus couldn’t help but glance back to Virgil. He expected to see the same uncertainty and confusion that painted the others’ faces, but instead the side looked thoughtful. Hunched low to the ground, his many eyes fixating on Janus’ face. Suspicious, _calculating_ eyes.

“Virgil made a _choice_ ,” Roman snapped. “He _chose_ to better himself and work with us instead of against us.”

“Clearly you _have_ learned your lesson these past few weeks,” Deceit replied with a cold apathy that made Patton shiver.

“He’s right. You’re only considering the extr—”

“I’m _considering_ that he’s outright stated he’d rather work against us than with us.”

Janus wished Roman would lash out with anger. He could handle anger, but the look of betrayal that flashed through his eyes cut deeper than his harshest insults.

Deceit tipped his hat. “Then it seems we’ve both made our choices, Princey.”

“Please,” Patton begged. “Isn’t there something— _Anything_ we can do to change your mind?”

The serpentine side replied to his desperation with a fond smile. “My dear, Morality, I have no interest in being _redeemed_. If you insist on looking for villains in the Dark, I’m happy to oblige.”

Roman’s lip curled as he tried and failed to come up with a witty retort. Under different circumstances, Virgil might have filled the gap by hurling a few insults of his own, but the anxious side remained uncharacteristically quiet.

Janus took advantage of the lull to duck out, casting one last look at Logan to avoid meeting Patton’s teary gaze. On first glance, the side appeared unmoved by the display, but Janus knew better than to trust his impassive expression. He saw the lines of his clenched jaw, the flex of his fingers when he resisted the urge to curl them into a fist. Cold eyes narrowed just a fraction as he studied his face, searching for an explanation beneath the deceptions.

_Why this? Why now? What changed? What are you_ up to _?_

Janus held his gaze until the end, appearing in his room for the first time since he found Remus bashing his head off the living room wall.

Even its warmth couldn’t banish the bitter taste of regret.

Deceit took a deep breath, face impassive even with no one around to fool. He removed his hat and held it up to the light, brushing off an imagined speck of dust and smoothing out the brim before hanging it on the hat stand by the door. Next came the capelet which he unfastened with deft fingers, and the gloves which he folded with care and laid out on the cabinet.

His movements were unhurried yet precise as he stripped back the layers of his carefully assembled costume. Changing could have been as easy as snapping his fingers, but he took the time to select a dress shirt from the wardrobe. Distant memories of arguments in a court room rose up, but he banished them without a second thought.

There were still bandages wrapped tight around his scaled finger index finger as he buttoned up the shirt. With his gloves on, he’d all but forgotten about them. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he sliced it in the Light sides’ kitchen.

No doubt Logic would lecture him for not replacing the gauze if he knew, not that he had much reason to care anymore.

Deceit took another deep breath, counting out the seconds before he allowed himself to release it. In, and out. Careful, calculated, _precise_.

He needed to find Remus before the side worked himself up again, but he could allow himself a moment to regain his composure first, surely.

With the wardrobe door still open, it was difficult to resist the urge to examine his reflection in the mirror now on display. The only mirror in his room, loathe as he was to use it. Its unfortunate habit of showing more than he wanted to see made him cautious, but he couldn’t help but pause when he saw it cut through his hasty disguise to display the bruises underneath.

The scratches around his eye human eye were the worst, though he’d managed to protect the eye itself from Remus’ desperate assault. Vicious red welts marred the skin, jarring against the dark bruises left from lack of sleep. The scales did a better job of concealing the damage, the hues of red and purple almost imperceptible beneath the green. Unnoticeable provided no one looked too closely, and why should they?

Well, all except Remus, of course.

Lost in thought, Janus’ fingers drifted to the bruises on his neck. He could hardly remember receiving them, but they blossomed black and purple against the pale column of his throat. No wonder Remus flinched at the sight of him.

A flash of movement distracted him, and for a moment Janus locked eyes with a figure standing behind his reflection. Filling a space that had been empty only a second ago, they crowded close to be seen in the narrow mirror. So close, he would no doubt feel their breath on his neck if they were real. The warm smile and inviting eyes were a lie all of their own, and at once Janus remembered why he kept his wardrobe door shut tight and latched.

Pain lanced through his fist where it struck, the fractures spreading through the glass like a spiderweb and slicing through that smiling face, but still it didn’t _leave_.

Cursing his own stupidity, he kicked the door for good measure, and he stormed away from his shattered reflection. Carefully controlled breaths became laboured huffs, but he failed to pull any breathing exercises out of his scattered thoughts.

His hands curled into fists around the edges of the dresser and he bit back a hiss when the fresh cuts stretched over his knuckles. Such a foolish, _reckless_ move, and he loathed himself for savouring the release it gave him. For imagining what it would feel like to indulge in it, just for a _second_ , and smash his room to pieces as Anxiety did.

_I’m better than this_ , Deceit reminded himself. _I hold things together; I don’t break them apart. I_ have _to be better than this._

The creak of the door distracted him from his pointless musings.

“I need a moment, Remus,” he said without turning, head bowed as he gripped the sides of the dresser. It kept him standing when the world swayed beneath his feet, but more than that, it kept him from lashing out with too many arms.

He squeezed tighter, and the wood groaned beneath his finger-tips.

“I know you’re not looking so hot right now, Jan, but don’t you think breaking your mirror is a _little_ extreme?”

“ _A moment,_ if you please.”

Remus tapped his fingers against his chin and threw himself on the settee. Janus massaged his temples.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting comfortable?” Remus suggested, drawing one of the soft crochet blankets close around his neck like a cape.

“I meant a moment of peace and _quiet_ , you—” Janus bit back an insult he’d regret, even if Remus would be unphased by it.

“What? I can be quiet!” To prove his point, he tightened the knot around his throat until it served as a noose. Janus sighed, but he refused to give up the gag even as his face began to change colour, his tongue lolling out as he suffocated in pointed silence.

“Remus, you know as well as I that you shouldn’t be in here in your current state.”

The side gave up his pretence of choking to pout.

“Don’t give me that look, you’ve said yourself that you find my room dreadfully dull. Can’t you go find some small animal in the Imagination to mutilate for a while?”

“What happened to your hand?”

“Never mind that.”

“Looks like you hit something pretty hard. Did you finally give in and punch one of the Light sides?”

Remus wasn’t an idiot, despite what he led people to believe. With the wardrobe door still hanging open, and the broken mirror on full display, it didn’t take a genius to piece together what had happened.

“We had a disagreement,” he amended, flexing his fingers. None felt broken, at least.

“And then you kissed and made up? Let me guess, your amphibian antagonist made you a friendship bracelet to mark the occasion?”

“Not quite.”

Remus examined his impassive expression, cocking his head like he’d just stumbled upon something particularly gruesome.

“Are you going up there to apologise?”

“ _No._ ”

At last, Janus turned to face him fully. He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed another side to see him dressed so casually, he didn’t even have his _gloves_ for Thomas’ sake. Anyone but Remus, and he would have donned his usual costume in an instant. If he weren’t so exhausted, if the settee didn’t look so inviting—

“You’re running yourself ragged, Dee,” Remus observed in a dead tone, though his eyes sparkled with interest. “I wonder, how long _can_ a side go without sleep?”

At once, Deceit banished the urge to give in. He dug his nails into his palm, willing the sharp sting to chase away the fog.

“We’re not real,” he said sternly. “Sleep is a luxury, not a requirement. I don’t _need_ it.”

Remus studied his face, drumming his nails against his chin in a senseless rhythm. “Why’d you break the mirror?”

“Why are you _here?_ ”

“Because we’re friends.”

Deceit scoffed.

“And this is what friends _do_.”

“Break into one another’s rooms to irritate each other?”

“I mean...I assume so? I don’t exactly have much experience in this area.”

They stared at one another, mismatched eyes holding the piercing green until they grew too bright and wild for him to bear.

“You can’t stay here,” Janus said, massaging the bridge of his nose to alleviate the headache Remus’ influence brought. Unfortunately, closing his eyes couldn’t banish the mental images it left behind. “Although, the scales _would_ complement your colour scheme.”

“Ooh, that could be fun! How _much_ do they cover, exactly?"

Janus rolled his eyes. “We’ll find out some other time, perhaps. In the meantime, shall we?”

Remus hurled himself off the couch and sprawled on the soft yellow rug.

“Why is your room so much nicer than mine?” he sighed.

“Perhaps because I don’t fill it with literal rotting garbage?”

“No…that doesn’t sound right…Do you use carpet freshener?”

Janus sighed. “Come on, Remus. I’ll find us something to eat, provided some of the cutlery survived your midnight cravings.”

xxx

The mentions started up again after a while, plucking at the edges of his awareness until he made the conscious choice to shut it out completely. Cutting ties to the Light wasn’t as complicated as he’d assumed.

It was fine. _Good_ , even. With balance restored, the world went back to the way it should be. Though his own injuries were stubborn and slow to heal, it wasn’t long before Remus regained enough of himself to throw off the bandages and discard his healing injuries. The benefits of being a side so disconnected from reality, though Janus knew it had as many downfalls as it did perks.

Without the distractions from above, Janus threw himself back into his work. Wrestling for influence to keep Thomas balanced, planting ideas that could easily be attributed to the other sides. Acting as a last line of defence from the safety of the shadows, wasn’t that what Deceit did best?

When he wasn’t working or spending time with Remus, he found new projects to occupy his time. Spending too much time in his room could muddle his thoughts, so he took to the halls and threw himself into the task of cleaning up the mess Creativity left behind.

A productive outlet for his ~~anxious~~ nervous energy. Just what he needed to distract from the persistent calls of the Light, but it failed to ease the gnawing in his gut.

When he finished vanishing the gore and viscera, he scrubbed the floorboards by hand until they gleamed. Since the walls were irreparably stained from the blood and peeling from the damp, he stripped back the wallpaper and coated them in fresh paint. He sanded out the uneven grooves in the doors, pushing down a wave of nausea when he found fingernails lodged in the wood. He wiped down all the glasses he could save from Remus, and all the silverware not already chewed beyond recognition. He dusted the light fixtures, washed the linens, and patched the moth-eaten furniture, but _still_ it wasn’t enough.

Time and time again, Remus coaxed him away from his self-imposed crusade, but no amount of self-care brought him any release. His room began to suffocate him after any more than a few hours, and the common room sounded so _quiet_ when he was alone. Quiet and Dark, not that it ever bothered him before he was exposed to the whirlwind of colour and chatter that was the Light.

At least he could rely on Remus to set something on fire when things got _too_ dull.

He didn’t need the Light. The words circulated like a mantra in his head while he scrubbed the floors until his fingers cracked and blistered. It could be fun to indulge in luxuries, but more than anything, he needed to recognise when it was time to let go.

If only the Light sides would take the same hint about letting go of _him_.

Janus dropped his bucket when Logan voiced the first outright lie. Soapy water spilled across the floorboards and splashed across his shoes, but his head tipped skyward and his eyes slipped shut as if in prayer.

“ _Did you know that Edward Kenway was the name of a real pirate?”_

“ _Really?_ ”

“ _Mmm. He operated between 1716 and 1718, at which point he was executed for his crimes._ ”

“ _Not exactly what I would call a_ fun _fact, specs._ ”

For a side well accustomed to feasting on white lies and table scraps, he all but _basked_ in the glow of his simple deception. For a singular moment, he would have sworn he was at Logan’s side in Thomas’ living room, the voices ringing clear and crisp in the wide open space. Light streamed through the closed blinds and illuminated Patton’s brilliant smile as he looked up from a joke book. Roman offered Logan a curious glance before he returned to his video game, and his heart ached with longing to join them. Perhaps if he just—

The scene dissipated like smoke, and he found himself alone in a narrow hall smelling strongly of disinfectant. Janus slid to the floor, trembling from head to toe with the newfound energy surging through him, almost making up for the absence of sleep.

It didn’t matter, it changed _nothing_ , but it didn’t end there. The lies continued, an endless stream of twisted facts and mismatched dates Logan _knew_ were false, and at first Janus assumed it was just another ploy to lure him back into the Light.

Until the others started too.

_“The sky is pink,” Patton giggled._

_“Are you sure this will work?”_

_“ **Do you have a better idea?**_ ”

Janus hissed as the scene fizzled in and out of focus in front of his eyes. What did they think they were _doing?_

“ ** _I hate all of you._** ”

“ _Aww, emo, I knew you cared.”_

_“Roman.”_

_“I…You’re really going to make me say it?_ ”

“ _Well if you_ don’t _want Janus back—_ ”

“ _Fine, fine. I hate Disney. There, are you happy_?”

The little lies didn’t carry the same punch as the outright deception, but they sliced through his blockade, entangling with the strings he cut when he severed himself from the Light. They didn’t ask him to appear as a side as they had at first, they called upon his very _aspect_ for the service he was made by design to provide.

The Light sides wanted to lie, and like an insect lured by the irresistible iridescence of a flytrap, Deceit answered their call.

Except…there was more to it than that, wasn’t there?

Janus’ eyes widened in horror as he put the pieces together, scrambling to his feet on the slippery floorboards. He kicked the bucket aside to sprint outright down the hall, too disoriented to even _think_ about sinking out.

“ _The War of the Roses began in 1435._ ”

“ _Um…I can’t think of anything_.”

“ ** _It doesn’t have to be anything big, Patton. Any lie will do._** _”_

_“I’m wearing a green shirt?”_

_“That will suffice.”_

_“Oh! I have one. Musicals have no artistic merit!_ ”

“ _I think it’s working!_ ”

The twist in his gut sharpened, similar but distinct from the feeling of being summoned. Janus skidded to a stop and threw open his door, but too late. Four sides turned to watch him as he leaned against the doorframe, panting to catch his breath.

“You can’t be here,” he hissed between pained gasps, but the sides looked too stunned to take in his words.

Janus tried to imagine what he must have looked like in that moment, exhausted and still trembling from the rush of being called upon. Soap suds splashed across his shoes, shirt untucked and only partially buttoned with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He ran a hand over his face to check his façade, even more hasty and haphazard than the last. A patchwork approximation of his own face, and if it had been an imitation of any other side, he would have been outed in an instant, and anywhere else he doubted even this would fool them. The room held the deception together and kept their eyes averted from the fraying seams in his mask.

It would be enough, but not for long.

“Get out. All of you. _Now._ ”

“You sure know how to roll out the welcoming committee,” Roman muttered, still staring at Janus with something like awe.

“Oh yes, I _definitely_ remember inviting you all here.”

“Well we wouldn’t have had to barge in if you’d just _talk_ to us.”

“Talked? My dear, Princey, we don’t _talk_. We _argue_.”

“That’s not true!” Patton protested, but Janus waved him off.

“It hardly matters now. There _aren’t_ more important things for us to focus on. Like, oh, I don’t know, evicting you all before your own stupidity leads you to corruption?”

“Do you give us your word that you’ll follow us to the Light so we can discuss this properly?”

“And why would I do that?”

Logan quirked an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest in an uncharacteristic display of stubbornness. Janus returned the look with one of his own.

“Really? Putting your own aspect at risk over a matter of principal? Doesn’t seem very _logical_ , does it?”

It was a cheap dig, and Logan didn’t budge an inch.

“We want to help,” Patton said, and Janus’ insides twisted. “We know we made some mistakes, but we want to make up for it. I’m sorry for pushing you before, but no one’s going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Fascinating. Would you mind kindly moving on, now?”

“You’re infuriating!”

“I _don’t_ try.”

“ _Janus._ ”

The words died on his tongue. It was Virgil. Of _course_ it was Virgil.

“ _I told them the risks. They knew what they were getting themselves into, but they came anyway. For **you**._”

“I don’t need your help.”

“ _Don’t you?_ ”

“Not this time.”

“And what happens if we need you?”

Of all the sides to take that stance, Janus wouldn’t have expected it to be Patton, but his eyes brimmed with a newfound resolve. Focused, determined, with no sign of tears. He’d be proud if the side’s progress didn’t work against him.

“You told me it was okay to be selfish,” Patton reminded him. “You told me it was okay to go to the others when I need help, sometimes…I don’t know where I’d be without you right now.”

Janus closed his eyes. “You would have gotten there on your own, eventually.”

“Perhaps Patton would have found his own solution, but I’m not so sure I would have.”

Logan adjusted his tie, squirming under the scrutiny when all eyes turned on him.

“I allowed myself to fall victim to pride. Convinced myself that if the others found out about my…predicament, I would lose their trust. I thought—” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. I needed you to push me to see the flaws in my own, well, _me_.”

Janus wanted to snap back and twist his words with cruelty until the side left and never came back, but even a serpent has its limits. Logan’s face remained neutral. Void of any hint of the sentimentality he expressed, not in his tone, but in the act of laying his own mistakes bare. Logic didn’t like to be proven wrong.

“You don’t need my help anymore,” Janus said softly. _You don’t need it, and someone else does_.

“ _Bullsh—_ ”

“Virgil!”

“Um, Dee? What’s this?”

Janus’ head snapped around to where Roman stood in front of the wardrobe where the door _should be closed_. Janus _did_ close it, didn’t he? But now the fanciful side craned his neck to peer through the crack in the door and see what glowed inside.

“ _Don’t touch that._ ”

“Did you _punch_ your mirror?” Roman asked, and the door seemed to fall open under his scrutiny rather than his touch.

“ _No_. Now get back from it.”

“But it’s…me.”

“You are surprised by your own reflection?” Logan asked with a raised eyebrow, his tone just shy of mocking, but Roman didn’t seem to hear.

His hand drifted towards his hair, hovering above something only he could see, eyes widening with awe and hunger fixed on his own reflection.

“I said get _back_. Shut the door and forget what you see.”

“What he sees?” Logan asked, and dread curled in Janus’ stomach when curiosity flashed across his face. Before he could move from the doorway, the side joined Roman in front of the wardrobe.

Gritting his teeth, Janus left the safety of the threshold to cross the room and slam the door shut, but already he could see Logan’s eyes blown wide with wonder and longing. Unconsciously his left hand drifted to his shoulder, the right curling as if holding a book flush against his side.

“Fascinating,” he breathed.

“What?” Patton asked, looking back between the two sides and the wardrobe, but Virgil knew better.

“ _Thomas read the Harry Potter books way too many times when Janus was still developing_.”

“You have your own Mirror of Erised in here? And you never _said?_ ”

“It doesn’t show you your heart’s desire,” Janus snarled back with more anger than the situation warranted. “It shows you _lies_. I expect you to listen next time I tell you to leave something in my room alone, or have you forgotten where you are?”

Roman ran his hand through his hair, deflating out of shame or disappointment, Janus didn’t care.

“Have you satisfied your unwavering moral compass yet?” he asked, rubbing his forehead. Already he could feel the dull ache beginning to creep back in. “You’ve thanked me for my help, apologised for the misunderstandings. I accept, is that what you need to hear? I bear you no ill will, now will you please _leave?_ ”

The dig was enough to curb Roman and Patton, but Logan remained unaffected by his guilt tripping, and Virgil only seemed more determined.

“ _Not until you explain what’s going on_.”

Janus felt like screaming.

“ _I **know** you. Acting out like that isn’t **you**._”

“Why?” he snarled. “Because I’m a _changed side?_ Light and pure at heart, is that what you think, _Anxiety?_ ”

“ _Because if you **really** wanted to keep playing the villain, you never would have told us outright._”

Well…Janus couldn’t argue with that.

Virgil took a step forward, and it was only on principle that Janus didn’t take a step back. His room was beginning to feel very claustrophobic with so many sides now placed between him and the door.

“ _I know there’s more to it than that. Just tell us what’s going on in that big brain of yours._ ”

“I already told you, I don’t need your help.”

“ _You don’t **want** our help_,” Virgil corrected. “ _You know better than anyone that there’s a world of a difference between need and want._ ”

For a fleeting moment, Janus entertained the idea. Pondered what it would be like to share his secrets for a change. An open, honest exchange of words without manipulation or subterfuge.

It brought to mind memories of a dissected frog from Thomas’ secondary school biology class, flayed under a microscope with its innards laid bare to be studied and scrutinised. Poked and prodded any parts of use stripped away and catalogued until all that remained was a slough of empty flesh.

The gruesome memory should have been his first clue that they weren’t alone in the room.

“Janus?” a voice called from the hall, the sound freezing every side in place. The door creaked as it eased open just enough to allow a pair of too-green eyes to peer around it, and at once Janus regretted crossing the room. With so many sides between him and Remus, it would be all-too easy for this to escalate and spiral out of his control.

Without so much as a flourish, Roman’s sword appeared in his hand.

“Remus,” Janus said, his voice carefully even. “Perhaps it would be best if you waited outside a moment.”

The side barely seemed to hear him, bright eyes (too bright, alight with something that burned from deep within) fixed on Roman.

“You didn’t tell me we had guests, Dee-Dee.”

“You’re not welcome here, you foul fiend!” Roman snapped, but Remus never even blinked. He just…stared. Eyes locked on his other half; his body twisted round the door with only the top half of his face visible.

“That’s not how things work down here, Ro.”

Roman glowered, and Remus watched. It would only be a matter of time before one grew impatient, or the other bored, and the bloodshed would begin.

Duels in the Dark were rarely so clean as those in the Light.

“It is impolite to lurk, Remus,” Deceit said, in a voice so cold it sent shivers down the spines of the observing Light sides. A subtle reminder of who really controlled the domain they’d forced their way inside.

A beat of silence passed, Roman’s grip still tight on his sword, when at once that burning fire in Remus’ eyes dwindled to a smouldering spark, and he detached from the door to throw himself across the room. Patton squeaked in alarm, but the side sailed clean passed him to sprawl out across the settee.

“If you’re all going to insist upon staying, you might as well all take a seat. Just remember you only have yourselves to blame when you start growing scales.”

“But he’s—”

“ _Sit_ ,” Deceit commanded, his own serpentine eye blazing as he summoned a handful of chairs with a wave of his hand. Virgil didn’t hesitate to follow the instruction, remembering that tone well from his years in the Dark. Logan and Patton soon followed suit, leaving only Roman to stare at him with a flicker of defiance. After a token show of resistance, that too was quelled beneath the intensity of Deceit’s gaze. He clenched his jaw, resentment clear across his face as he glared at his brother who now seemed intent on ignoring him.

Janus turned his back to the group, making his way over to a small table on the edges of his room. His hands shook within his gloves, and _that_ simply wouldn’t do, so he clenched them into fists to hide the tremors and counted back from ten. Keeping this illusion together, even combined with the strain of holding back some of the harsher effects of his room, took more out of him than it should have. He’d gorged himself on the lies they told to bring themselves here, and drunk off their pitiful deceptions, he’d almost convinced himself he wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of it.

_Just a while longer_.

He drew on the strength of his own deceptions when his reserves dwindled, folding himself back behind his own mask of Deceit until his shaking hands stilled and his breathing evened out. When he turned away from the table, he left all evidence of his cleaning-spree behind and faced them with a fresh face and his usual costume, not a thread out of place.

“Tea?” he offered with six arms instead of two. Something about the display made Patton sink down in his seat, and caused Roman to grow very, very quiet.

“Please!” Remus chimed, head lolling to the side as he reclined back on the velvet cushions, his feet kicked up over the arm of the settee.

No one spoke beyond murmuring their thanks as Deceit placed delicate cups in all of their hands, not even Remus, though he hummed and gurgled the scalding beverage.

Deceit took his own seat beside his fellow Dark side, taking a pointed sip from his own cup when the Light sides only continued to stare. Virgil imitated the motions with jerky, robotic movements, eyes downcast like a child caught in the room while their parents argued.

“I will have no fighting in my room,” he said as if oblivious to the deathly silence, taking another sip from his cup.

“But _Jaaaaan_.”

“How you settle your disagreements in your own corners of the Mindscape is your own business, but I refuse to waste my time bleaching the carpets because the two of you can’t _behave_.”

_Not to mention that injuries aren’t quite so permanent in the Imagination_.

“Now, if you’ve said your piece, I definitely _wasn’t_ serious about having work to do. I suggest you finish your drinks and make your way back upstairs.”

Patton blinked. “That’s…it?”

“I’m sorry, if you were looking for entertainment, might I suggest a visit to Roman’s room instead?”

“ _You know that’s not what he meant_ ,” Virgil muttered, still not meeting Deceit’s eye.

“I agree with Patton. I understand why you wish for us to leave before we can be harmed by your room, but nothing has truly been resolved.”

“Because every argument _definitely_ ends in a neat resolution, all wrapped up in a bow. Isn’t that right, Princey?”

The events of the last episode were still a sore spot. The side ground his teeth but offered little in the way of a response.

“No?” he prodded. “You disagree? Don’t get shy on me now. Tell me, did you think you could barge in here and play the role of the dashing hero? Sweep me off my feet and whisk me away to the side of sunshine and rainbows while I _thank_ you all for rescuing me?”

“Janus—” Patton tried to interject, but Roman had no interest in letting someone else speak for him.

“It worked for _you_ didn’t it?” he snapped, and Deceit laughed, high and cruel.

Logan took his own turn at attempting to stem the developing argument but found no more success than Patton. “This isn’t going to—”

“The difference is that you needed saving, honey.”

“They offered you a place in the Light?”

That voice alone dug into the cracks of his carefully constructed mask. Scripted lines slipped out of his grasp as he tried to retain control over the narrative.

“You didn’t know?” Logan asked curiously, and Remus’ face went blank.

“I’m not going,” Janus said before he could think twice about it. The words were too rushed, too _honest_ , but once they started to flow they wouldn’t stop. “They made me an offer which I rejected, there’s nothing more to it than that. I have no intension of leaving.”

Remus tilted his head in evident confusion. “But you want to.”

And with that, Deceit began to unravel.

“Janus?” Patton asked. “Is that true?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “I have no interest in moving upstairs. I’m _happy_ here.”

“ _It’s what you’ve always wanted, Dee,_ ” Virgil said softly, but the side only glowered.

“And I suppose _you’re_ the best judge of what I want? Of what is _best_ for me? I am a _Dark_ side. Even if I _could_ change that, I wouldn’t _want_ to.”

“What happened to not viewing the world in terms of extremes?” Logan asked, folding his arms, and Janus fought back the urge to grip his hair.

“What do I have to do to convince you all that my place is here?”

“It might help if you convinced yourself of it first.”

Remus offered Roman an appraising glance. It was rare for the twins to be on the same side for a change.

“My place is _here_ ,” he hissed, but Remus shook his head.

“You live for the debate, Jan,” he said, and there was a fondness in his smile as he said it. “I know you want to protect me, but you deserve to stand with them.”

“This isn’t about _you_.”

“Why else would you want to stay down here?”

“I have my reasons.”

“The Dark may as well have been made for me, that doesn’t mean I have to hold you down here as well.”

“I’m your jailor,” Deceit snarled, his eye blazing once again, but Remus remained unphased. “Nothing else. We’re _not_ friends.”

“You deserve _better_ , Dee-Dee.”

Deceit stood up suddenly, his chair clattering to the floor. Roman rose as well as if to intervene, but Remus rocketed to his feet and a look of understanding passed between them when brown eyes met green. A second, a fleeting glance, but it communicated everything they needed it to.

Anger boiled inside him, flooding through the growing cracks in his charade, but it wasn’t in the serpent’s nature to lash out with violence. Not when cruel words could cut so much deeper.

“I don’t care about you.”

“Then why are you still disguising yourself?”

In a flash of lunacy, he felt like laughing.

“Is _that_ what this is about? You think that because I hid the scars that I was…what, exactly? Protecting you from their judgement?” He discarded the façade without a second thought, too blinded by rage to hear the gasps. “I couldn’t care _less_ what their opinions of you may be.”

Instead of hurt or betrayal, Remus looked at him with sadness.

“When was the last time you slept, Jan?”

Deceit loathed him for speaking with the softness he himself once used to calm Virgil.

“You are repulsive.”

“You’ve been wearing yourself too thin.”

“What do _you_ know? You’re not even a half-side, shoved through the cracks because no one else can stand the sight of you.”

“You’re not well, Janus. You need time to recharge.”

“And how am I supposed to _do_ that when I’m _starving?_ ”

He caught Deceit’s wrist before the side registered his decision to raise it, a teasing smile curling his lip. “You could start by asking for help for a change?”

Deceit saw red. “And who _exactly_ should I ask? _You?_ You _disgust_ me.”

“I know, Janus.”

“ _STOP USING THAT NAME_ ,” he screamed, the harshness of it tearing at the inside of his throat, and still it didn’t stop him from pouring every ounce of that churning rage into his words. “ _I HATE YOU!_ ”

“I _know_ , Janus,” Remus said, and suddenly he looked so very old.

Janus collapsed against his shoulder, torn between sobbing and screaming. The side only patted his shoulder when he lashed out with too many limbs, before six arms became two and he clutched the fabric of Remus’ costume like a lifeline.

He’d had the misfortune of seeing more than one side cry in the last month, but Janus didn’t break down with silent tears and muffled sniffles. When Janus cried, he _howled_. Everything he was poured out in his tears, compelled with equal force to seek the comfort of a warm embrace and lash out with every ounce of energy left in his body. Even as he buried his head in Remus’ shoulder, he fought back the urge to sink his too-sharp teeth into his throat.

Worst of all, he doubted Remus would fault him for it if he did.

He bit down on his lip instead until he tasted blood, still screaming wordlessly through pierced lips. No mask to hide behind, no more layers to unravel. He’d been laid out bare like a corpse on a slab and he _hated_ it. Gutted, cold, and empty despite the warmth of the room. Desperate cries wracked a hollow frame, leaving nothing behind but _hatehatehatehatehate—_

A sudden pressure on his shoulder made him gasp, teeth detaching from his punctured lip. The hand brought with it a warmth that seeped beneath the skin and curbed the jagged edges of the hollow void within, and without opening his eyes he knew it must be Patton.

Encouraged by the side’s boldness, Roman followed suit. No doubt standing so close to his brother caused him some discomfort, but the sacrifice made the gesture all the sweeter. The two Creativities, united at last over a common goal, and somewhere in the vast nothingness he felt a spark of pride.

Another hand clutched his capelet, the hesitance almost masking his desperation, but Janus knew him far too well to mistake it. Virgil didn’t offer him the warm comfort or bitter sweetness of false assurances, but he cast a spidery shadow over the burning anger, and Janus wouldn’t exchange his presence for all the call-backs in the world.

At last a hand came to rest just above the joint of his right elbow. The antithesis of all Janus represented, the irrefutable truth of cold hard facts to counter his deceptions in the muddy grey. He shuddered with the chill of it, but through the bitterness he found a balm to soothe the remains of the smouldering fire. A solidity to steady the uncontrollable tremors and uneven breaths.

Six sides of a single whole, and in that moment, Janus could see clearly how the pieces fit together in Thomas’ mind.

“We can’t stay here,” he rasped when at last he found the words. The sides wouldn’t see the creeping scales at first, no one but Janus ever did. One of the many dangers of a room that pretended to be something it wasn’t. “Staying…too long…Not good for any of you.”

“It’s not good for you either, Dee,” Remus reminded him. Janus’ grip tightened around the fabric of his shirt.

“I won’t leave you alone again.” His voice cracked as the words tore their way from his ruined throat, robbing them of their impact, but Remus traced soothing circles on his back.

“Just because Virgil never came to visit doesn’t mean _you_ can’t. If any side can figure out a way to live between Light and Dark, it’s you. Go. Let someone else take care of you for a change.”

Janus wanted desperately to argue but found he couldn’t even muster up the energy to fight the weight of his eyelids. He gave in without ever making a conscious decision, barely noticing when the hands that served to ground him shifted to carry his weight and guide him upwards through the swirling mindscape.

“ _It’s going to be okay_.” The voices sounded distant to his sleep-deprived mind, intermingling and indistinguishable. They spoke with passion, and empathy, and desperation, and conviction. Four as one, and though he tried to taste the air, he could detect no hint of a lie through the tang of blood.

Half-delirious with exhaustion, he found himself wrapped up in something fuzzy and warm as he leaned back.

Asleep before his head even hit the pillow, Janus allowed himself to _breathe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I know I said this would be the last chapter...but I guess I'm channeling Janus a little more than I intended. Despite my best efforts (and boy did I throw a lot of time and effort into this one) I couldn't...quite sand out some of its rougher edges. I'm hoping you can all still enjoy it. The epilogue WILL be lighter and (hopefully) tie up all the loose ends I've left hanging.
> 
> Shout out to gyuumajo for suggesting the nickname "Amphibian Antagonist", and IMMENSE credit to my amazing, fantastically talented new beta reader without whom I may never have finished this monster train-wreck of a chapter. Also for the help in making some much needed revisions to chapter 5. You're the best!!


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sides begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it too late for a happy ending?

Janus wasn’t sure how long he slept, but he remembered waking long enough to let Logan treat his injuries. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he reminded him that _imaginary wounds couldn’t get infected_ , the side couldn’t be dissuaded.

Or perhaps he’d been telling him that the wounds _would_ get infected. His disorientation made the boundary between honesty and fabrications murky, and it would take more energy than he currently possessed to pull them apart.

“Why do you bother?” he mumbled once when he roused to find Logan carefully replacing the bandages on his sliced knuckles. He only clenched his jaw and shook his head. If he offered a reply, Janus wasn’t conscious long enough to hear it.

It was rare for sides to truly dream, but his faltering grip on reality distorted the brief glimpses of consciousness and cast doubts as to whether they happened at all. Patton crying sounded real, but when he heard Roman yelling it sounded stilted and disjointed. He opened his eyes once to find Logan reading beside him, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth when he tried to speak. At one point, he even mistook Roman for Virgil and would have sworn he heard him singing. It reverberated strangely on his tempest tongue, but even as a dream it sounded no less sweet.

He slept, and for once he knew everything would be alright when he woke up.

The first time he got up from the couch, he almost gave Patton a heart attack. Staggering into the kitchen, semi-conscious and squinting under the bright lights, he barely noticed the side was there at all. Without sparing a thought for the time or the lecture he would no doubt receive from Logan, he snagged the coffee pot from the machine and an unopened box of cereal from the cupboard before promptly collapsing back onto the couch.

Patton wisely chose not to intervene aside from reminding him the coffee would still be hot. Janus raised the pot in a silent toast before downing most of its contents and curling around it to bask in its lingering heat. The caffeine didn’t stop him from drifting off again, but his mind seemed sharper the next time he came around again, this time to find Virgil perched on the arm of the chair and watching him like a hawk.

He waited, apparently trying to determine if Janus would stay conscious this time before he nodded. “ _Let things get this bad again, and I’m replacing all your philosophy textbooks with self-help DVDs.”_

Under different circumstances, Janus would have called him a hypocrite, but even with the coffee in his system he was too exhausted to come up with a retort. The smile he managed to conjure barely touched the human side of his face, but it lifted the line of his serpentine jaw. The honesty of it made his skin crawl, but it was worth it for the look that crossed Virgil’s face.

It would take time, but Janus could be patient.

Fortunately, the Light sides made no effort to rush his recovery. They adapted their schedules to fit his erratic routine so they could ensure he never, not _once_ , awoke alone. He would be grateful if the immensity of his indebtment to them didn’t threaten to consume him.

“You need to eat something,” Patton said, shoving a plate under Janus’ nose before he could protest. Janus blinked in surprise.

“It’s a bagel.”

Janus blinked again.

“It’s just…everyone likes bagels, right?” Patton looked nervous. Why did Patton look nervous? “Please, you have to eat _something_.”

Imaginary sustenance to fuel an imagined construction of a form. It wouldn’t help to fill out his hollow cheeks or change the way his shirt hung off his frame. He’d pushed himself far beyond his limit, and now he paid the price for it.

Patton’s wide, pleading eyes bore into his. “We have cream cheese?”

Heaving a sigh, Janus propped himself up enough to take a large, deliberate bite. Imagined or not, it _was_ delicious.

Giving in so easily may have been a mistake, as after that he found plates of food waiting for him almost every time he opened his eyes. Plates strategically placed on the coffee table, trays waiting by his feet, even candy bars stashed under his pillow. Still, somehow he couldn’t bring himself to mind, and he vowed to thank Patton when he could be sure the sentiment wouldn’t come out reversed.

If the others picked up on his reluctance to speak, they politely avoided mentioning it. Even simple truths tripped on his tongue these days, and he’d rather offer no thanks at all than mangle his expression of gratitude. There would be time for that later, he’d make _sure_ of it.

Little by little, his strength began to return to him, but still the sides maintained their vigil at his bedside. Roman seemed determined to work his way through Thomas’ entire Disney collection, and Janus couldn’t find it in him to offer even a token protest. They watched movies he hadn’t seen since Thomas’ childhood, applauding politely at Roman’s perfect recitals of even the most obscure songs in the catalogue.

He feigned reluctance when asked if he wanted to watch the Jungle Book next, and the small deception fuelled him long enough to get through not only the original, but the live action remake as well.

Despite his threats, Virgil was the first one to think to bring him books when the simple act of sitting up no longer exhausted him. To his surprise, instead of simply plucking a handful of heavy tomes from the shelves that lined Janus’ room, he brought his own worn paperbacks. Thrillers and horrors mostly, but the more he read, the more he appreciated how carefully Virgil chose them. Books with moral conundrums and morally grey protagonists to counter classic heroes. People who kept their wits about them, utilising their intelligence to tackle their adversaries. In all of them, secrets and deception went hand in hand with heroics, and Janus couldn’t help but devour them.

When Logan saw a few lying around and volunteered to provide books from his own collection, Janus expected the sort of dense textbooks he often perused in his own time. He _definitely_ didn’t expect the embodiment of logic and learning to return with a mountain of mystery novels.

It was strange to spend so much time among the Light sides without an ulterior motive to drive him. Enjoying their company without twisting their words, no points left to prove or arguments to sway them.

Janus didn’t say much these days. If the Light sides took notice, they had the decency not to pry. There was honesty in silence, he decided. Though it defied his very nature, he found little reason to deceive the other sides.

The first time Logan brought out the chess board, Janus declined his offer to play. He watched, silent and unblinking as he defeated Roman again, and again, and again. For three days he held back, and when at last he stepped up to the challenge his moves were calculated and cautious. Janus took more pieces, but Logan won the game.

When they played again, Janus asked to play white and Logan acquiesced.

(He lost that match too, but the outcome didn’t matter so much as the game itself.)

Over the ( ~~days~~ ~~weeks?)~~ course of his recovery, his strength returned to him as a slow trickle. It would be a long time before his exhausted reserves fully recovered, and some secrets could never be concealed again once they’d been exposed to the light of day.

In the end, all of the sides’ collective efforts amounted to a _fraction_ of what Thomas achieved with a simple summons.

He answered it without a conscious thought, a motion as natural to him as breathing. He couldn’t even bring himself to mind the sickening swirl of colour this time because he’d been _asked_ for, and in that moment nothing else in the world mattered.

Until he hit the ground, and reality came crashing back into play.

Logan rose up at his side, following only a split second after Janus vanished. This time, when the side caught his arm and held him steady, Janus replied with thanks instead of a hiss.

“Janus?” Thomas asked with rapidly growing alarm. “Are you alright?”

“I know you meant well inviting him, kiddo, but I’m really not so sure it’s a good idea to have him here for this episode.”

“I agree, you should be resting.” Janus patted Logan’s arm to show he appreciated the gesture but shook his head.

“I’m here now, I might as well hear the reason for it.” His voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears, but the rush of attention made the wave of dizziness and fatigue more than worth it.

Thomas ducked his head in embarrassment. “Well, uh…it’s nothing important, really. If I’d realised you were…”

“ _He wants to do another Q+A_ ,” Virgil interrupted. His tempest tongue still echoed through his words, and the heavy blackness beneath his eyes looked closer to tar dripping down his cheeks than eyeshadow, but for the first time in months Janus saw no sign of extra eyes.

“While I agree that it may be beneficial both for us and for your fans if we were to quote-unquote ‘ _chill out'_ after the events of the last episode may be wise, I do not believe it is necessary for _all_ of us to be present for this.”

Janus realised with a pang of gratitude that Logan fully intended to leave with him. Both sides were starved of attention, but he was willing to pass up an opportunity to bask in the spotlight for the sake of keeping Janus company.

He’d be flattered if his mind weren’t racing with possibilities.

“I’ll do it,” Janus said before Thomas could so much as open his mouth to respond.

“Are you sure?” Roman asked sceptically. “Answering questions doesn’t really seem like your…Well…”

One last manipulation. It couldn’t even be called a deception, not really. Thomas just needed the right _push_ —

“Oh, I do have a condition.”

“A…condition?”

“You do _want_ me here, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Well, my involvement comes with a caveat. More of an entail, really.” Janus drew himself up to his full height, pulling back from Logan even if he benefited from the extra support to hold him steady.

“I’ll answer any questions your fans may pose as honestly as I am able…on the condition that you extend the same opportunity to Remus.”

Silence.

A part of him expected the other sides to look surprised, but even as Patton and Logan exchanged uneasy looks, neither offered even a token protest.

“Janus…” Thomas trailed off, shifting uneasily in place.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

The looks Roman received ranged from awe to outright horror. Even Janus found himself struggling for words, but with his face set in grim determination, he pressed on. “I know the fans weren’t expecting it, but surely some of the group questions could be applied to him as well?”

“I— That’s really not the issue here. Guys, a little help?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a fine line, his gaze flickering between Thomas and Roman. Janus turned to meet his eye, silently pleading with him to understand. His face remained as impassive as ever, but those cold eyes softened when he saw the expression on Janus’ face.

“Your ability to silence and restrain other sides extends to Remus, does it not?”

“It does.”

“Then you have the ability to contain him if he gets out of hand?”

“I do.”

Logan nodded, more to himself than to Janus. “In that case…I see no reason why he can’t be a part of the video.”

Desperation began to creep into Thomas’ voice as he turned to Virgil this time, searching for some shred of support. “You _have_ to see why this sounds like a terrible idea, right?”

Virgil tapped his chin. “ _You know, I had my doubts, but if Logan thinks it’s a good idea, who am I to argue with the voice of reason?_ ”

“This is _insane_.”

“Maybe,” Patton admitted, smiling in the face of Thomas’ pleading look. “But I trust Janus.”

Three simple words. _I. Trust. Janus._ He tried to remember if he’d ever heard them uttered aloud before, without so much as a hint of dishonesty lacing. Pure, genuine faith.

_How on Earth did I earn it from Patton of all sides?_

Thomas drooped, outnumbered five to one. “I really hope you guys know what you’re doing.”

Janus flashed him a sharp smile. “If you can’t trust in yourself, who _can_ you trust?”

Thomas grimaced. “So, do I just…call him? Normally he just sort of appears up on his own.”

“So did I, but it’s always nice to receive an invitation.”

Thomas waved his arm in a way vaguely reminiscent of Roman’s preferred method of summoning, gesturing to the empty space by the TV and…nothing happened. Roman inched out of frame, staring at the spot with growing anticipation.

“Er, Remus? This is your cue, buddy.”

The side didn’t rise up so much as sprawl out boneless across the expanse of carpet. He swore fluently as he fell, twisting and contorting himself into a blatantly inhuman shape to get a sense of his new location. When his eyes landed on Thomas, he froze.

Neither one so much as blinked, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Remus’ eyes burned a little too bright for Janus’ liking, but he bit his tongue as the pair surveyed one another.

When Thomas began to squirm under the scrutiny, Virgil grew impatient with the standoff and let out a huff. “ _Get up, trash-man. Thomas’ camera is on a tripod, the viewers can’t see you when you’re contorting yourself into a pretzel on the floor._ ”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” Roman asked incredulously.

“ _You think watching Thomas stare at something off-screen makes for exciting content? When viewers get bored, they **leave.**_ ”

Roman sighed and extended a hand to his brother. Remus stared in bewilderment, torn between suspicion and fascination.

“Have you finally cracked?” he asked, squinting up at Roman from the floor. “I always knew you would eventually. I was hoping you’d go for something more _dramatic_ , though. Maybe finally putting that katana to good use with a good old fashioned public beheading. Streaking across a stadium works too if you want something a little less _red_ , though I suppose you never were much of a sports fan.”

Roman huffed, but the second he began to pull away, Remus made a desperate grab for his outstretched hand.

The opposite sides of creativity considered one another, though Janus was pleased to find no trace of resentment there. Caution certainly, but no suspicion.

“Well, well, well,” Remus drawled, eyes returning again to fix on Thomas. “Something I said _must_ have struck a chord. So, what are we in for today, hmm? Are we breaking out the knives? Or are we going for something a little more _fun?_ ”

“That won’t be necessary, Remus,” Logan said without batting an eye, and for the first time, Remus seemed to notice they had company. He froze when he noticed Janus subtly leaning against the bannister for support.

Overly aware that their viewers would no doubt study this as their first on-screen interaction, Janus looked away first to casually examine the fingers of his gloves.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing _quite_ so interesting,” he said with feigned disinterest. “I’m sure the episode will be strictly age appropriate. We’re here to answer some of the fan questions on twitter. I believe you should be up to the task?”

Remus stared until the silence grew uncomfortable enough to make Thomas fidget.

“Questions?” he repeated, drawing out the word as if still struggling to comprehend its meaning.

“It’s a way for the audience to get to know you better…If you _want_ them to get to know you better,” Thomas muttered, fiddling with his phone to avoid meeting his eye.

Remus blinked, but his face remained blank. _Dangerously_ blank. Janus could see the other sides shooting him nervous glances in his peripheral, but his attention now rested solely on Remus.

“ _Are the lights still on in there?_ ” Virgil asked casually, but his body language gave him away. Wound up like a spring, prepared for Remus to lunge at them without warning.

And lunge without warning was _exactly_ what Remus did.

Roman yelled in alarm as his brother shot forward in a blur of motion where only seconds before he’d been still as stone. From across the room, Patton screamed. From the stairs, Virgil swore. Beside him Logan scrambled backwards to avoid the living cannonball now hurtling towards them, and Thomas almost fell over the back of the couch in his haste to do the same.

Janus threw his arms out wide, barely resisting the urge to summon the four he kept carefully hidden. Remus barrelled into him headlong, hard enough to knock the air from the lungs and drive him back a step. At once his arms wrapped around Janus’ middle, locking like a vice and squeezing until his ribs creaked.

In an instant Roman’s katana appeared in his hand, but the glare he received in return brought him up short. Instead of fighting back, Janus returned the hug without hesitation, rubbing soothing circles into Remus’ back when he buried his face in his shirt.

He shifted, lifting his head just enough to mutter his thanks without being overheard.

“No need for gratitude,” Janus murmured, unable to hide the fondness in his smile. “I keep my promises, Remus.”

He held on tighter, squeezing until it became almost unbearable, then at once the pressure vanished. Bright eyes stared up at him, so vivid the neon green should be sickening, but in them he found no trace of rage. Alight with joy and appreciation, there could be no mistaking his intentions.

“How _delightful!_ ” he announced around a wide-mouthed grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he spun to face the camera. “I suppose I should get back to my mark. You don’t mind sharing the spotlight, do you brother-dear?”

Roman looked back and forth between the pair, still stunned by the sudden change of pace. “I…suppose?”

“It’s…er, nice to see you again, Remus,” Patton said, though his hands still shook from the fright.

“Yes, quite.” Logan straightened his tie, frowning as he studied Janus for any sign of injury. “Now that the pleasantries are behind us, perhaps we could begin? We’ll have enough editing to do as-is.”

“R-Right.” Thomas still clearly wasn’t happy with the situation, eyeing Remus as if he expected him to lunge again at any moment, but the prompt reminded him he had a job to do. Clearing his throat, he unlocked his phone again and began to scroll through the list. “The first question is for Virgil.”

“Oh for the love of— Why does _he_ always get the first question?”

“@shadowsofthedark over on Twitter asked: Do you have any makeup tips? P.S. I love the darker eyeshadow.”

“Wait, _you_ got the makeup question?”

Virgil only smirked. “ _I guess some of Thomas’ fans have_ taste _._ ”

Roman all but shrieked in protest and Virgil’s grin widened. “ _Well your foundation is the best place to start, of course. A few good sleepless nights induced by existential dread should give you some nice, natural shadows to build upon—_ ”

“I would like to remind you that doctors recommend between seven and nine hours of sleep per night in order to stay healthy. Associated side-effects of consistent sleep deprivation include an increased risk of obesity, heart disease, high blood pres—”

“— _before you break out the brushes and the darkest eyeshadow palette at your disposal—_ ”

“Wait, are _you_ the one who stole my makeup brushes?”

There was a comfortable familiarity in their teasing and light-hearted bickering. A well-rehearsed routine they fell back into without missing a beat. When he saw an opening, Thomas interjected with a question about Patton’s favourite comfort foods which led to a brief debate about the correct chocolate chip ratios in recipes.

So relaxed and trivial it was almost surreal, and when Janus met Remus’ eye he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking so. Not long ago he would have expected Virgil to feel the same, but even with his tempest tongue distorting his words he slipped into the conversation with an ease Janus couldn’t help but envy. Time changed all things, and Virgil was no exception. His time in the Light had softened him, leaving Remus and Janus to stand on the outskirts alone.

Roman preened when at last Thomas found a tweet addressed to him, though it was less of a question and more of a request for inspiration. Janus would have sworn he saw a tear in his eye when he stared off into empty space and delivered a speech about the value of fledgling artists while an imagined musical chorus swelled. No doubt it would look more impressive when the editing was done, but Remus had to jam his entire fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

Naturally, Janus turned to Logan as they waited for the next question. The last one left to complete the circuit.

“Okay, we’ve got a tweet for Janus from @serpentinesalsa. ‘If he’s answering questions can you ask Janus for his self-care tips? Love you guys’. Aww, that’s sweet.”

He knew logically there would be questions directed at him. Thomas wouldn’t have asked him to participate otherwise, but somehow it still managed to catch him off-guard. His confusion must have shown because Logan’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. Grounding, reassuring, _undeserved_.

“ _You don’t have to do this_.”

“No it’s…fine,” he said carefully, still baffled by the mundanity of it all. Had they _seen_ the last video? “Taking time to do the things you enjoy is essential, of course, as is taking physical care of your body…though I think Logan would be better placed to give advice on maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and meeting your dietary requirements.”

“And yet, they asked you.” Logan’s tone left little room for argument. Not unkind but fixed and firm.

The question should have been _his_.

“Staying hydrated is important,” Janus muttered. Who was he to stand here and give advice on self-care anyway? What made him qualified to give strangers life advice when he so recently managed to work himself into the ground?

“Oh, you can do better than that, Jan.”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Remus who soaked it all in with a wide and toothy grin.

Janus narrowed his eyes.

“And, of course, it’s essential to set boundaries. Remember that it’s okay to tell the people close to you that you need _space_.”

“Well that doesn’t sound very _fun_.”

“Or that they’re being particularly annoying.”

“Why, snake-eyes, whatever could you be implying?”

Even exhausted, Janus fell into their well-worn routine without missing a beat. No wrestling with his words or turning his arguments over in his head before he voiced them aloud. No pressure to patch the holes in his logic, no need to manage an image or separate truth from lie from hope from lie that Thomas believed more fiercely than any fact Logan could spout.

Remus’ face cracked into a wide and wicked grin that sent nervous ripples through the other sides.

_Still an unpredictable element_ , he noted as he watched Roman’s fingers curl into a loose fist. Remus, of course, remained oblivious. Or perhaps he _chose_ to be oblivious, rocking back on his heels as if Virgil’s eyes didn’t track every hand gesture. Watching in case his wild gesticulations disguised a subtle conjuring. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d crafted some nightmarish monstrosity under the guise of holding a civilised conversation.

Logan kept his opinions to himself, but his lips pursed in silent disapproval when Remus managed to make his clean-cut answer to the next question sound like an innuendo. Virgil’s sharp wit filled the silences Logan left behind, but for all his bravado, he couldn’t defy his nature for long. He slumped low, hiding in his hoodie the same way a turtle tucked its neck back into its shell at the first sign of danger. When Remus threw out an arm in parody of his brother’s usual theatrics, something black and glittering flashed in the thick shadows beneath his eyes. A momentary slip, but it didn’t escape Janus’ notice.

Roman, for all their history, at least _tried_ to give his brother a chance. It might have worked too, if not for the fact that he still fell for every snipe and goading comment Remus dropped. Patton’s attempts at disrupting their bickering matches only went so far when he still couldn’t work up the courage to get within swiping range of Remus. Not that Janus could fault him for the precaution.

Worst of all was Thomas, always prone to wearing his emotions on his sleeve. The regret could be seen plain as day, splashed across his face, and wound around his clenched jaw. Janus didn’t need Virgil to relay his concerns, not when his eye twitched with every swear he’d have to edit out. With every question Remus managed to turn into a sexual innuendo that would make even his oldest audience members blush, every discussion he managed to side-track into a pointless debate, Thomas’ wariness gave way to frustration.

Janus wondered how long they would have before that frustration rose to outright anger.

“@clairvoyantcrown1 wants to know if you guys have any hobbies?” he bit out, already resigned to the hours of editing it would take to scrape any useable footage out of this mess of a Q+A. Remus’ eyes lit up at the implications of such an open question, though a look from Janus silenced him before he could derail the question.

_Wait for the right moment. Bide your time_.

Patience and strategy weren’t Remus’ strong suits, but fortunately for them both, he trusted Janus enough to bite his tongue. For now, at least.

“Why, acting, of course!” Roman said hastily before his brother could open his mouth to speak.

“I’m not sure that counts as a ‘hobby’ since Thomas relies on it for income.”

“I also write—”

“Scripts. For the videos Thomas relies upon for income.”

Roman glowered. “I learned _Spanish_. How’s that for a hobby? What do _you_ do you’re your free time, you nit-picking nerd?”

“I have no free time,” Logan replied, adjusting his glasses with no small degree of smug self-satisfaction. “After years of practice, I have managed to devise the perfect schedule for maximising efficiency. Even accounting for _disruptions_ such as these.”

“What about chess?” Patton suggested. “You love chess!”

Logan’s eye twitched. “Studies have shown that playing chess has observable benefits on cognitive functioning and memory. I learned chess as an _investment_ in Thomas’ brain development.”

“ _What about reading? That’s a hobby_.”

“Accumulating knowledge is part of my job, and therefore can’t be considered a leisure activity.”

“ _Oh yeah? And I suppose making Thomas watch Doctor Who reruns is a purely intellectual exercise?_ ”

“If you are so interested in this question, why don’t you answer it yourself?” Logan said through gritted teeth, and Virgil bared his teeth in a grin.

“ _Easy. I like to consider the terrifying prospect that our every action is predetermined and set in stone. Our path forward and our future already decided by some greater force, and therefore entirely outside of our own control. No way of knowing whether fate has set us on a path of fulfilment, or whether we’re doomed to spiral into obscurity. And when I have the time, I like to consider whether that is more or less terrifying than the idea that we may_ truly _be in control of our own destiny, and therefore completely responsible for any failures which may lay in store for us, with no divine intervention to steer us towards our full potential._ ”

Thomas stared, his attempts at forming a coherent response dying on his lips and leaving him gaping like a fish.

“As fascinating as existentialism is, I believe contemplating topics which cause Thomas some degree of anxiety also counts as part of your job, and therefore cannot be considered a ‘hobby’.”

“What about you, Janus?” Patton asked before Virgil could fire back the biting retort so clearly poised on his tongue.

“I suppose you would also count _scheming_ as part of my job?” he asked, pretending to adjust his collar while he studied Remus out of the corner of his eye. Keeping quiet opposed his nature, and without an outlet for his restless energy he fidgeted in place. While Roman and Patton seemed to have forgotten about him in the heat of the debate, Virgil remained ever vigilant.

A jittery Remus he could handle, but it wouldn’t be long before his restlessness gave way to agitation. If he could just hold out a little longer while Janus dropped the bait and twisted the conversation just _so_ —

“You would be correct,” Logan agreed, and he let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, if you insist. I’m not sure if you could call it a _hobby_ , but I’m prone to cleaning when I’m stressed.”

Thomas looked up from his phone in surprise. “Really?”

“Ask Remus if you don’t believe me.”

At once his expression darkened, but once brought into the spotlight, Remus could be _very_ difficult to ignore.

“Oh it’s true, alright,” he laughed, rocking back on his heels so far he surely should have overbalanced. Instead, he hung in the air at that unnatural angle for a beat longer than gravity should have allowed before rocketing forward again as though swinging on a pendulum. “I should have thought the gloves would give _that_ away!”

“In my defence, it’s a useful habit when you’re so prone to mucking up our quarters.”

“What can I say? With all the action happening in my room there’s bound to be the occasional _spill_ ,” he said, waggling his eyebrows in such an exaggerated motion that even Roman rolled his eyes.

“I don’t mind scrubbing out the blood stains, Remus, but if you could please _try_ to keep your little side projects from encroaching on our living space? The last time the garden overflowed I lost a finger to the snapping pansies.”

“The subconscious has a garden?” Logan asked, his irritation forgotten in the wake of this new discovery. Janus suppressed a smile as Remus’ eyes flashed.

_Hook, line, and sinker._

“Of course! You didn’t think my brother had a monopoly on _plant life_ , did you?”

“I must confess, the possibility hadn’t occurred.”

“He’s got a point,” Patton agreed. The fabric of his cardigan bunched beneath his fists as he fiddled with the knotted sleeves that draped off his shoulders. “I mean…aren’t flowers more Roman’s thing?”

“ _Not the way he makes them,_ ” Virgil said with something bordering on nostalgia. “ _I don’t suppose you still have the spider pla—?_ ”

Patton’s piercing wail drowned out even Virgil’s tempest tongue, sharp enough to reignite the ebbing pain in Janus’ head with a fiery passion. His wince went unnoticed in the flurry of activity, with only Logan remaining unphased by the display. Virgil ducked for the limited cover the bannister provided, hissing at the unexpected assault on his eardrums. On the opposite side of the room, the twins summoned their weapons with almost uniform synchronicity. Despite the circumstances, Janus couldn’t help but appreciate the rare sight of the twins brandishing their respective weapons to form a united front against a common enemy instead of against one another.

“There’s no need to panic, Patton,” Logan said, somehow bearing witness to the unexpected commotion without so much as raising an eyebrow. “I believe Virgil was speaking anecdotally. I do not believe he was suggesting there are actually any spiders present.”

Patton managed to refrain from screaming again but couldn’t suppress the full body shudder at the mere mention of them.

“What the fu—”

“Language, Remus. Thomas still has to edit this at the end of the day,” Janus reminded him, straightening his capelet in an attempt to regain some of his earlier composure.

“—runculosis.”

“Furunculosis?” Roman repeated, absently banishing his katana as his arms dropped back to his sides.

“A rather unpleasant skin condition which causes furuncles, more commonly known as boils, to develop at the site of an infected hair follicle,” Logan recited in textbook monotone.

“You’re not the only one who knows big words, y’know.” Remus kept his Morningstar, though he relaxed his grip and let it fall to his shoulder the way someone might hold a baseball bat. The casual pose made the sharpened spikes no less menacing as they glinted in the stage lights. “What’s up with the banshee-esque begetter?”

Logan shot Remus a rare look of approval. “Patton is arachnophobic. He’s prone to outbursts at even the mention of—”

“Don’t say it!” he pleaded. “I feel like they’re crawling all over me. Are they on me? Roman, can you check?”

“You’re all clear, padre,” Roman assured him, but beside him Remus’ face split into a grin of pure and unbridled delight.

“Is that _so?_ ” he practically purred. “Well, in that case I _definitely_ have a few creations you might enjoy. And just in time, too! Plants don’t traditionally reproduce with egg sacks, but after seeing that video of that nest that exploded all over that guy’s kitchen, how could I resist?”

A low, keening sound escaped Patton’s throat, and he squeezed his eyes tight shut in a vain attempt at blocking out the memory of a wave of black specks scuttling across a tiled floor. A nightmare in a kitchen _just_ close enough to Thomas’ that it plagued him for _weeks_ after the fact.

“Your plants reproduce?” Logan’s eyes burning with poorly concealed curiosity. His fingers curled as if it took conscious effort for him to refrain from summoning a pen.

“Like catholic rabbits.”

“Not all of them,” Janus corrected, tentatively stoking the fires. It rarely took much coaxing to get Remus talking about his creations, given the right _push_. “The trees don’t multiply.”

“Au contraire, mon ami. The bamboo trees spread faster than I can keep up with them.”

“What’s so gross about bamboo?” Thomas asked before he could help himself, and Remus’ dangerous grin grew impossibly wider.

“Is it so impossible to believe I might be able to appreciate something that _isn’t_ repulsive? Bamboo is such a versatile plant, after all.”

“Don’t ask,” Roman muttered, eyes turning skyward as if seeking divine intervention. “Please don’t ask—”

“ _That sounds_ fascinating _, Remus,_ ” Virgil said, the corner of his lip twitching. “ _I wonder, what possible uses could you have for bamboo._ ”

“Well, are you familiar with the history of bamboo as a torture metho—”

“Nope!” Patton yelped, slapping his hands over his ears. “Nuh uh!”

“I’m with Patton on this one. Can we _try_ to keep it PG?” Thomas asked with a hint of desperation. Remus wilted in obvious disappointment.

“Applications aside, there’s still an obvious flaw in your argument. While sometimes tree-like in appearance, bamboo is classified as a form of grass, not a tree.”

“Remus has trees in his garden too,” Janus said, careful not to sound overly eager as he nudged the topic back towards safe territory. “In fact, I would argue some are among his finer creations.”

“I don’t know about _that_.”

“How long did you spend on the Weeping Willow, again?”

“Oh, Roman has one of those in his garden!”

The twins exchanged looks of surprise at Patton’s pronouncement, but Janus and Virgil knew better than to compare the grand, arching tree in Roman’s domain with the twisted and sore-riddled thing in Remus’.

“I suppose your one cries blood?” Roman asked, as if this were an unnecessary drama compared to his own creation, where the knots in the wood shed tears of crystalline glass.

If Remus detected the subtle bite in his brother’s voice, he gave no indication of it. “Pus, actually.”

“Like a weeping wound,” Logan guessed. “I confess, I do appreciate the wordplay. Is this a common theme in your work?”

“Only if you count the Howling Hyacinths,” he said, clapping his hands together in delight. “Or the Curdling Cactuses.”

“Cacti.”

“ _Just mind you avoid the strangling vines_.”

“Aw, Virgi, you really do know how to hold a grudge.”

Virgil glowered. “ _It almost_ killed _me_.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“ _I’m not being_ dramatic _. Janus had set the damn thing on fire just to make it let go!_ ”

“Language, kiddo!”

Janus couldn’t help but smirk at the scene as caution gave way to morbid curiosity, the questions forgotten as Thomas inched a little closer to centre frame. Remus still threw his arms out at inopportune times, but he couldn’t help but notice that even Patton had stopped flinching at the jerky motions.

“You’re really into this whole thing, huh?” Thomas asked. Had anyone else posed the question, Remus might have responded with an eyeroll. Instead his sharp and eager nod made him resemble a bobblehead.

“What’s not to love? Especially with names like _gymnosperm_.”

“You _can’t_ be serious.”

“It’s a family of flowerless plants,” Logan informed Roman, his brow creased as if he couldn’t fathom why anyone would find this perplexing. “Its name comes from the Greek words _gymnos_ and _sperma_ which roughly translates to naked seed—”

Remus’ cackle made it easier for Roman to disguise his choked laughter, but even Thomas found it difficult not to snort at Logan’s perplexed expression.

“Was it something I said?” he asked, more than a little irritated.

“ _Don’t worry about it, Teach_ ,” Virgil said, biting his lip to keep from smiling.

“In that case, may I suggest we get back to the matter at hand? That is, if you still wish to produce a video we might actually _monetise_ at the end of this?”

Privately Janus suspected they may already be beyond that point, but he chose to keep that point to himself as Thomas rushed to unlock his phone.

“Er, right. @Saturday_Tortina wants to know what your dream jobs would be.”

This time, when Remus’ eyes flickered back to Janus, the only guidance he offered was an inviting smile.

Remus couldn’t be described as an easy fit in the group, too many rough edges and too sharp a tongue to compliment Thomas’ fragile brand. And yet, with the tension effectively pierced, his quips earned more snorts of laughter than uncomfortable silences.

Remaining upright became more difficult without the rush of motivation to spur Janus on, the light-hearted bickering now a familiar lullaby after weeks of sleeping on the couch in the Light sides’ living room. When at last Thomas decided he had enough footage, Virgil surprised all of them by leaving his perch on the stairs to offer a steadying hand as Janus ducked out. Keeping him grounded when he stumbled on the landing, a guiding hand to lead him back to the safety of the couch when the room refused to stop spinning.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and he didn’t need to see straight to hear the smirk in Virgil’s voice.

“Anytime, Jan.”

Janus blinked in surprise when, for the first time in weeks, Virgil’s works came out untainted by his tempest tongue.

“I didn’t just mean for helping me, you know.”

“I know.”

“Well,” Roman announced as he rose up behind Virgil, ignoring the dirty look he received in favour of throwing himself down on the couch opposite Janus. “That could have gone worse.”

“Considering his past record, I would describe it as a remarkable success.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, specs.”

Virgil rolled his eyes as the pair once again resorted to squabbling, but Janus knew him well enough to recognise the fondness in his expression.

“Janus!” Patton fretted before his feet even hit solid ground, oblivious to the developing bickering match behind him. “You didn’t push yourself too far, did you?”

“I’m sure I _won’t_ be just fine,” he said, the room already growing fuzzy through his heavy-lidded gaze, but even the exhaustion couldn’t touch his triumph.

It would take a lot more than a single successful video to secure Remus a seat at the table, if he wanted one at all, but he doubted the buzz from this video would die anytime soon.

Half-coiled beneath the small mountain of blankets Patton insisted upon procuring, Janus allowed himself a smile.

“We should visit the Subconscious, sometime,” he announced, drawing Logan and Roman’s argument to an abrupt close. “Together.”

Patton blinked, brow furrowed in a strange mix of confusion and concern. “Are you so sure that’s a good idea?”

Janus’ gaze flickered back to Virgil and studied the look of doubt painted plain as day across his face.

“I’m sure you can all handle it,” he said with a confidence the others clearly didn’t share. “Insectine plant life aside.”

“Spiders are arachnids,” Logan said, but this time Janus knew to expect the responding scream.

_Yes_ , he decided over the sound of Virgil’s hisses and Roman’s elaborate curses. _We’ll all be just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE FINISHED FOLKS!
> 
> Sincerest apologies for the long delay, but it's here at last. If you're reading this I hope you the ride! Credit to you for sticking with me this long. Honestly the reception on this fic has been amazing (we passed over 500 kudos?!). Enormous thanks to each and every one of you. Whether you commented, bookmarked, left kudos, or just lurking, thank you all for your time and patience!
> 
> It would be truly remiss of me to end this fic without a few honourable mentions. Shoutout to aglmry for commenting on every chapter since the DAY the first one went up! ENORMOUS thanks to everyone who left suggestions and feedback. I've gotten some truly incredible responses on this fic and I'm so sorry I can't thank you all by name! Also to the incredibly talented SomethingStranger28 for making me FANART! I'm immensely grateful for the time and effort put into this and will be leaving links to their art over on instagram. Please check it out if you're interested!
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CBcAhCfHH9J/  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CBewG51HkcW/
> 
> Finally, last but most certainly not least, I want to thank my incredible beta. You left me some of the most helpful, in-depth, and encouraging comments I have ever received, and since offering to work with me you've helped to improve not only my previous chapters, but my writing in general! This epilogue wouldn't be here without you. My critique partner, my friend, [thein273](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thein273/pseuds/thein273) I owe you more than you could possibly know!
> 
> If you've enjoyed this fic I STRONGLY recommend you go check out xir fic [Morality Is Grey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603248/chapters/67528322) which follows Virgil's background with the Dark Sides, right up to present day canon! It's got twists, it's got drama, and honestly I've had a great time betaing it. Go check it out!!!
> 
> Stay safe, you guys.


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